Sounds Like A Breakfast Cereal
by akane47
Summary: In his fifth year, Harry finally gets a vacation. Join Hex Holmstrom as he dodges arrest from the Ministry, gets the girl, beats the bad guy, and turns Hufflepuff House upside down! COMPLETE!
1. The Letters in the Refrigerator

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SOUNDS LIKE A BREAKFAST CEREAL

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Disclaimer: I don't own anything that J.K. Rowling says is hers. I also don't own any part of Brooklyn (although there is a bridge I'm looking at…), McDonald's, Barnes & Noble, and any of the bands Hex listens to. I only own Hex Holmstrom and his little corner of the world.

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Part One — Chris

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The Letters in the Refrigerator

"I'm sorry, Chris," Cathy Lartmore said, pulling away from him, "but we can't see each other anymore."

Chris Holmstrom looked blankly at the pretty girl sitting as far away from him as the car's tiny back seat would allow. "What?" was all he could say.

"We can't see each other anymore," his girlfriend of less than one month repeated.

"Are you serious?" The look on Cathy's face said she certainly was. "Can you give me one good reason why?" he asked, arching an eyebrow and ignoring the pain from the piercing he'd gotten just that day.

She shrugged. "We're too different."

A roaring was beginning in Chris's ears. "I thought you said opposites attract."

"That's when it's a _good_ different. We…well, we're different in a not good way."

"Like how?"

Cathy cocked her head to one side and scrunched up her button nose, thinking. Chris once thought the habit was cute. Tonight, it made him nauseous. "Like, I try to do well in school, and you're…well, you just got kicked out."

"I didn't get kicked out," he clarified. "They just encouraged me not to come back next school year. Anyway, what does it matter? We can still see each other. I can wait for you after school and we can hang out."

"My parents don't want me seeing a boy who got kicked out of school."

"So this is all about your parents?" Chris chuckled. "What do they know?"

"Chris, you don't understand. My parents and I sat down and talked it over, and I realized that they were right. You're totally wrong for me. I have a bright future ahead of me if I work hard and go to college. You're…well, let's just say you're distracting me from that goal."

"Hey, I never made any demands when you said you had to do your homework."

"It's not just that," Cathy said. "You're a bad influence, trying to get me to ditch school and drink beer and…and…go all the way." This last was said in an embarrassed whisper.

"I'm trying to get you to live your life," Chris told her. "You're only young once, y'know. There's not much time to do stupid things before you have to grow up."

"You have no intention of growing up, Chris! Look at you! You have no sense of responsibility, no work ethic, no conscience—"

"—unlike Jeff Spielman?" he asked, naming the straight-A golden boy jock from Lawton High School, which they had both attended the previous year.

Cathy's baby blue eyes widened. "How did you know about me and Jeff?"

Chris frowned. The truth was he didn't. "So this is about Jeff?"

She shrank further into her corner of the back seat. "Well, it's partly about him, too."

"Damn." He fell silent.

"Chris?" Cathy asked tentatively after a nerve-wracking pause. "Say something, Chris."

"Not yet. It's not everyday a guy gets dumped. I'm trying to make the moment last forever."

Tears welled up in her eyes. Chris was once a sucker for that move. Tonight, he knew she could turn the tears on and off like a faucet. "You're mad."

"I'm hurt, and upset, and confused," Chris told her, opening the car door and unfolding his long legs. "And yeah, I guess I am a little mad." He slung his leather jacket over his shoulder and slammed the door shut. The glass in the window shattered and the alarm began to shriek piercingly, disrupting the other couples at the drive-in, as he walked away.

"You're late." Tiny Thompson, the enormous owner of Tiny's Electronic Repair Shop, greeted his employee as Chris slouched into the store the next morning.

"It's only ten-thirty," the boy replied, dropping his battered knapsack on the floor behind the counter.

"Work begins at nine. I called your place, but your old man said you weren't there. Where did you stay last night?" the big man asked sternly, opening a small refrigerator that stood in the corner.

"A friend's." Chris eased himself down behind a wilderness of TV, radio and VCR innards and Tiny set a chipped bowl, a bottle of milk, and a box of Cheerios in front of him.

"Hmph. Found a new school yet?"

"Nope."

"Bet you're not looking, either." Tiny sighed. "You're wasting your brains, boy, if you stop now."

Chris grunted around a mouthful of cold cereal. 

His boss placed a hammy hand on his shoulder and squeezed, not noticing him wince slightly. "Eat your breakfast, now, then get back to work. Mrs. Fletcher's coming in for her fax machine this morning."

The stairwell was dim and stuffy when Chris trudged his way up to the tiny apartment he shared with Hank Ulster, his foster father. From behind the thin walls and doors, he could hear people arguing, watching TV, or making dinner.

From behind his own door, he heard the TV and a mighty belch, a sign that Hank was home. Chris produced a key from a chain around his neck and let himself inside.

The windows were shut, trapping the mingled odors of sweat, beer and stale food inside the cramped space. The late afternoon sun shed light on the piles of dirty clothes, old newspapers and empty pizza boxes, making the debris seem oddly beautiful. 

His foster father was sprawled in the battered La-Z-Boy, staring at the TV. He was a balding, rather flabby man in his forties. There were quite a few empty beer cans at his feet, and he looked like he'd spent the whole day in the stained tank top and sweatpants he wore (which he probably had). 

Hank looked balefully at the boy. "You're back."

"_Hello, Chris, welcome home!_" Chris said sarcastically, in the high-pitched voice he imagined a hysterical parent would use. _"Goddammit, kid! Where were you? I've been worried sick!"_

The man snorted. "I don't care where the hell you go so long as I get my check."

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"Go to your room, young man, and think about what you've done!" Chris went on.

"You're starting to get a smart mouth on you, boy," Hank said, his voice beginning to rise.

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"You're grounded!" Chris gave his parting shot in the same high-pitched voice as he dragged his knapsack to the tiny alcove off the living area that he called his room. 

He flopped onto the rickety camp bed and put some System of a Down on his Walkman to drown out the noise of the TV. Chris then rolled back his sleeve and looked thoughtfully at the bruises on his arm that were starting to turn a sickly greenish-purple.

Before he knew it, he was asleep.

He awoke early the next morning to the grumbling of his stomach. Hank had forgotten about dinner last night. Or maybe, Chris thought as he noted the empty pizza box on the scratched dinner table, he'd forgotten to wake Chris up for his share of dinner. 

The door to the single bedroom was open, allowing his foster father's snores to reverberate throughout the tiny apartment. Chris showered and changed his clothes, not caring how much noise he made because Hank slept like the dead. On his way out, the boy helped himself to a couple of wilted twenties from Hank's cracked and greasy billfold.

As he dawdled over his Egg McMuffin at a nearby McDonald's, Chris thought about how he had to drag himself out of bed every morning when he had been in school; and how easy it was to get up early now that he wasn't.

He arrived at the repair shop just as Tiny was opening up for the day. The big man smiled when he saw him. "Morning, son."

Chris nodded briefly. "Morning."

"There's a letter for you."

"What?"

"A letter. Something came in the mail." Tiny grinned and handed him a large yellowish envelope, addressed in green ink to 

Mr. C. Holmstrom

The Front Counter

Tiny's Electronic Repair Shop

125 14th Street

Brooklyn, NY USA 52416

There was no stamp or postmark. The envelope was sealed with a coat of arms with a lion, eagle, badger and snake surrounding a large letter H. Chris looked blankly at it.

But his boss was brimming with excitement. "Looks like it's from one of those fancy private schools. You applied without telling me, didn't you?"

"No."

"Maybe one of your guidance counselors at Lawton recommended you. I knew one of them could see you had some potential."

"They all hated me. I gave Mrs. Spears a nervous breakdown, remember?"

Tiny was grinning so hard he looked like the bottom half of his large face was all teeth. "Whoever it was, Chris, it looks like you have a very good friend somewhere. Go on, open the envelope!"

Muttering something about mail bombs and anthrax, Chris unsealed the envelope and slid out a letter written on the same heavy yellowish paper.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

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(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Holmstrom,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

(signed)

Minerva McGonagall,

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Deputy Headmistress

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Chris was even more confused than before. _Hogwarts? Witchcraft and Wizardry?_ What was all this about an owl? 

"It's a new school isn't it?" Tiny asked excitedly. "Why don't you look happy?" he asked with less enthusiasm when Chris nodded numbly.

"Take a look at this," the boy told his boss, handing over the letter.

Tiny's beady eyes skimmed it quickly. When he was done, he looked just as confused as Chris did. "Witchcraft and Wizardry? What the hell…?"

"Never heard of the place. And there's no such thing as magic, right?"

A second sheet of paper listed the requirements mentioned in the letter. _Cauldrons? Robes?_ Chris was pretty sure Barnes & Noble didn't stock _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot. Maybe he could mail the letter to one of the weird Goth chicks who had been in his English class last year. He was pretty sure they'd flip if they got a letter like this one. Maybe they even had an owl to send to the school.

Tiny's huge shoulders sagged in disappointment. "And here I thought you got into a new school."

"Aw, Tiny, don't worry about it. I can get a late transfer and just catch up, right?"

"First you have to find a school that will take you."

Another letter was waiting for Chris ("Mr. C. Holmstrom, the Alcove Beside the Bathroom, Apartment 5B, 697 ½ Bedford St., Brooklyn, NY USA 52416") when he got back to the apartment that afternoon, which he promptly pitched, unopened, into the garbage. 

He thought the joke was over, but the next morning there were two more yellow envelopes nailed to the front door beside the eviction notice they got every week. Two more were on the front counter at Tiny's when he got there. "This wasn't much of a joke," Chris said as he sent them through the shredder. "Why do these people keep at it?"

Tiny only grunted in reply. He'd become more of a slave driver after his initial disappointment. 

But the letters continued to arrive. There were three waiting on Chris's bed after work. One was in Hank's pocket the next morning. He threw that one out and breathed a sigh of relief that he'd found it ahead of his foster father. 

The counter girl at McDonald's gave him a weird look when she gave him his Egg McMuffin and a letter addressed to "Mr. C. Holmstrom, Order # 8964, McDonald's, 564 Bedford St., Brooklyn, NY USA 52416". There were even more waiting in the refrigerator at Tiny's, which didn't do anything to cheer up the big man. "Will you please tell these friends of yours to stop wasting paper?" he asked Chris as they took a garbage bag of shredded letters to be recycled.

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I would, but I don't have any friends, Chris thought. Cathy crossed his mind for the first time in days and was surprised that he felt no pain.

Hank was already home when Chris arrived that afternoon. The TV was off and there was twice the usual number of empty beer cans at the man's feet. The hairs on the back of the boy's neck prickled.

His foster father chugged down the last of his beer and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "Hello, there, boy," he greeted Chris with a slight slur to his words. "How was your day?"

Chris grunted noncommittally and tried to slink away to his alcove.

"I asked you a question." Hank's tone was heavier, as if he were offended at Chris's display of bad manners.

"Fine," he finally replied.

"I'm glad you had such a good day," he said in a sugary-sweet voice that screamed _danger_ more than his earlier tone of voice had. "You know what kind of a day _I_ had?"

Chris didn't answer. He knew he was going to hear about it anyway.

Hank rose unsteadily to his feet and tried to recount his day. "Well, this morning I got up, and…I had breakfast…then I went to work, only they wouldn't let me in because they said I was fired."

"That's too bad," the boy said, trying to humor his foster father.

"That's too bad," he mimicked in a mocking voice. "It gets worse, boy…they didn't give me any final pay. So I get back here, and what do I find?" He shoved a thin white envelope practically up Chris's nose.

"What's that?"

"What's this?" Hank snarled, breathing beery fumes right in Chris's face. "_This_ is a piece of paper saying I owe six hundred dollars to repair a broken car window."

"What?"

"I said that was funny, we don't _have_ a car," his foster father ranted on. "But then I remembered you, boy."

"What? Why me?" Chris asked. "I didn't break any…" His voice trailed off as he remembered the scene at the drive-in. Breaking up with Cathy…walking out of her car…slamming the door…the alarm shrieking. Had he slammed the door enough to break the window? _I couldn't have!_ "I didn't break any car window!" he said.

But Hank was convinced he was guilty. "Don't lie to me, boy. You've gotten in enough trouble in the past. Didn't I tell you that the last time was to be the last time?"

"I didn't do it!" Chris cried as his foster father shook him roughly by the shoulders.

"Don't give me that!" There was a great burst of pain as Chris's shoulder hit the wall, and another as Hank's foot connected with his side, reaching ribs that had already been sore for the past few days. 

The boy slid to the floor, trying to shake off the daze so he could get up and finally fight back this time. It hurt to breathe. Chris jerked reflexively as he heard a footstep, but relaxed again when he opened his eyes and watched Hank walking toward the refrigerator.

His foster father's roar of outrage blasted Chris to his feet. "What is this, boy?" Hank demanded, rounding on him. "What is this?"

"What is what?" he asked, confused. Then he saw the refrigerator, its door ajar, and the yellow envelopes flooding out of it. Chris groaned. "No! Not now!"

"You know about this?" Hank took one and peered at it. "It's for you," he growled, tossing the envelope at him. "Where's my beer?"

"I don't know!" he said, backing up against the wall as his foster father advanced toward him, murder in his eye. "Maybe you drank it all!"

"Maybe _you_ drank it all!" Hank roared, grabbing Chris by the scruff of his neck. "Your check is late, boy! Maybe they know you're drinking and won't pay me to take care of you anymore!"

"I _didn't_!" Chris said, panicked and angry, pushing futilely at his foster father. He was strong for his tall, lanky build, but Hank outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. "Get your goddamned hands off me!"

"This is for your own good!" Hank said as he threw the boy against another wall. "You need to be taught a lesson!"

The next eons passed in a haze of pain, noise and blood as Hank took his frustration at his sad and wasted life out on Chris's hide. Chris tried once or twice to get off the floor and make a run for the door, but the pain and fear finally overpowered him. Finally, he just lay there and waited for the fire in the different parts of his body to run together and finally numb him.


	2. Epiphany

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Disclaimer: Again, I only own Hex Holmstrom and his little part of the world. JK Rowling owns Hagrid and his part of the world, as well as the entire Knight Bus Group of Companies. I also don't own the names "Cheerios" (from Chapter 1) and "Egg McMuffins."

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Epiphany

He didn't know what time it was when Hank finally got tired of his game and went off to watch some TV. He didn't know how much more time passed before his foster father's snores began to rattle the walls of the apartment, before he could finally drag himself to his room.

Chris's whole body hurt and his face was sticky in some places. There was a salty, metallic blood-taste in his mouth. In the dim light he could see the dark smears on his pillow, adding another chapter to the history told by the faded stains that were already there.

There was a burning, a throbbing over his right eye. Chris felt gently to see if his eyebrow piercing was still there, finding that it was and wincing from the stab of fire that lanced through his brain. Tonight he remembered to protect his head, so he still had all his teeth — a miracle, considering how many times Hank had hit him in the mouth in the past.

Also, he didn't break any bones this time. Maybe the beatings were finally toughening him up.

A harsh sob escaped the boy, followed immediately by a gasp of pain from the effort it took to cry and try not to cry at the same time. He wasn't sure he wanted to find out how long before he'd stop feeling any pain. Maybe you had to be dead first.

Chris half-wished he could die. What he wanted more was to get out of this place. But where could he go? 

He heard a soft crackling when he tried to move his head. There was something under his pillow. Chris frowned as much as he could without hurting himself, reached under it and withdrew…

…a yellow envelope.

The next day Chris felt dead inside. He lay in bed, thinking about how much he wanted to get out of here. He hoped he could.

It was already really bright outside. Chris guessed it was already noon or even later than that, but it hurt to move, much less get up and call in sick. He wasn't worried about that, though. Tiny would understand why he didn't show up at work today.

He could hear his foster father moving around outside. What was he doing home? Chris wondered, then remembered he'd gotten fired…He pulled the blanket over his head and went back to sleep, wishing he would never see Hank again.

It was evening when Chris woke up again and could get out of bed. It still hurt to move, but not as much as it did before. 

Hank was out. The check from Social Services had probably come and he had gone to spend it. Chris walked slowly to the bathroom and washed his face, ignoring the sting from the soap and cold water. 

His letters were still scattered on the floor. He swept them aside with his foot on the way to the refrigerator, which gave him nothing but a single, slimy slice of bologna for dinner. Tomorrow, Chris promised himself, he was buying two Egg McMuffins. 

He jumped when the lock turned and Hank stalked into the apartment. "'Bout time you got up," his foster father said shortly. "Didn't go to work today, did you?"

"No," Chris replied coldly. His grip tightened on the week-old newspaper beside him.

"You should have." Hank tossed his jacket on a nearby chair. "I'm not paying for that busted car window."

"I didn't break it."

"Like hell you didn't. If you don't pay, I get sued."

"Tough." Chris had no idea why he was trying to provoke his foster father. Maybe his brains were scrambled. 

"Dammit!" Hank growled, unbuckling his belt. "Do I have to teach you another lesson?"

"I think I've learned enough from you." All kinds of thoughts were running through Chris's head when his foster father grabbed him by a handful of his T-shirt. Foremost in the jumble in his brain was the thought of just getting out of here.

Chris whacked his stepfather with the newspaper, which of course didn't do anything but make Hank angrier. The belt buckle hit him, sending fresh explosions through his still-sore body, but Chris managed to land a few punches of his own to his foster father's greasy, rubbery face. 

He was getting out of here. Why was he so sure? Was that the kind of feeling you got when you knew you were going to die?

The boy poked Hank in the eye with the rolled-up newspaper and his foster father, bellowing in exaggerated pain, wrapped his belt around Chris's neck and squeezed. 

His body hurt and he couldn't breathe, but all he could think about was getting out of here. 

There was a loud _BAM_ and they both froze. There was another and Hank glared furiously at Chris. "You called the cops, didn't you?" he hissed, and began to squeeze again.

The loudest _BAM_ of all echoed throughout the apartment. There was a sound of splintering wood, a strange voice crying "Let 'im go, yeh stupid great oaf!" and the next thing Chris knew he could breathe again.

When the spots had cleared from his eyes, he saw the biggest man he had ever seen holding a terrified Hank by the seat of his pants a few feet off the ground. "Try pickin' on someone yer own size," the man growled, giving Hank a hard shake after every word. When all his foster father could do was whimper in terror, the man tossed him aside impatiently.

Chris watched Hank scramble away and out through the pulverized front door, then found himself looking into the hairy face and kindly beetle-black eyes of his rescuer. "Yeh all righ', son?" the man asked gently.

He nodded dumbly and unwound the belt from around his neck, staring in disbelief at the huge man.

His enormous hand could have easily crushed Chris's whole head, but it was gentle as it turned the boy's face this way and that, inspecting the damage. "Looks like I got here jus' in time."

"Wh-who are you?" Chris finally asked.

"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts," he replied, lifting Chris easily to his feet.

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Hogwarts? "You mean it's real?" he demanded, hope beginning to burn again inside him.

"'Course it's real!" Hagrid waved his enormous hand at the letters beside the refrigerator. "Yeh got yer letters, didn't yeh?"

"I-I thought they were just a joke…"

"No joke, son! Headmaster Dumbledore sent me here ter come fetch yeh — figgered yeh didn't know how ter get ter Hogwarts from here. Great man, Dumbledore…always thinks of everythin'…'Course he told me ter ask yeh if yeh _wanted_ ter come…thought maybe yeh wanted ter stay here…" Chris shook his head vehemently and Hagrid laughed. "But I _knew_ yeh'd want to come!"

Suddenly, Chris stopped shaking his head and looked at Hagrid with a new worry. "But I don't have any money and I don't know a single thing about magic."

"Don' worry abou' the money, son," the huge man told him firmly. "Didn't I jus' tell yeh Dumbledore thinks of everythin'? And yeh're a righ' smart 'un, yeh are…yeh'll catch up fast enough."

Chris grinned, ignoring the pain from his sore muscles, so happy he could just bust. "Wait 'til Tiny hears this! When do we leave?"

"Tiny! Tiny!" Chris called as he burst through the door of the repair shop.

"Back here, boy," his boss replied, emerging from the stock room, scratching his big belly. "You're on time today."

Tiny's wry observation was lost on the boy. "Hey, Tiny, you know all those weird letters I've been getting?"

Tiny frowned. "You're all bruised up. 'Your old man been bea—"

"They're real." Chris laughed. "Can you believe it?"

"Are you all right, Chris?"

"I'm fine. The letters are real!" the boy repeated. "Hogwarts is real. I'm going to a new school!"

"What?"

"Yeh done in there ye', son?" Hagrid asked, his hairy head appearing in the doorway.

Tiny goggled at the huge man. "Who's that?"

"That's Hagrid," Chris explained. "He's taking me to Hogwarts."

"You mean Hogwarts is real?"

"'Course it's real," Hagrid said, exasperated. "You Muggles are too suspicious."

"Us what?"

"Non-magic people," the huge man explained briefly. He reached in through the doorway to shake Tiny's hand. "Rubeus Hagrid."

"Tiny Thompson," the shop owner replied, dazed at the appearance of a man even larger than he was. "'You really taking Chris to this Hogwarts?"

"Yep. Best school fer witchcraft and wizardry in the world. But the boy said he wanted ter say goodbye to yeh firs'."

"We're leaving in a while," Chris explained.

"How will you get there?"

"Don' yeh worry," Hagrid said before Chris could start stammering for an answer. "He'll get there. An' he'll be jus' fine."

"I've never heard of this Hogwarts," Tiny said, finally taking Hagrid's word for it. "But I think going away to school would be the best thing for Chris right now."

The huge man nodded assent. "I know what yeh mean." 

"Someone gave you a chance, boy," Tiny told Chris sternly. "Better not let them down."

"He'll stay in line," Hagrid assured him.

"Good."

"I'll write you," Chris said to his boss. Perhaps Hogwarts had a postal service.

Tiny nodded curtly. "Do that." Finally, he gave the boy a brief hug. "You take care of yourself. Maybe you can come stay with me in the summer."

"Where is Hogwarts, anyway?" Chris asked, following Hagrid down a deserted alleyway, carrying the bulging knapsack that held all his possessions. 

"Er, I think the Muggles would call it England," Hagrid said. 

"_England?!_" Chris exclaimed. "Are you nuts? How'd you get here from there?"

"Yeh'll find out." He stopped in the middle of the alley and stuck out the flowery pink umbrella he carried, as if flagging a taxi.

"Uh, Hagrid, if you want a cab, you have to be standing on the str—_whoa!!!_"

There was a loud _BANG _and Chris yelped. A gigantic purple bus had appeared from out of nowhere. On the side, in swirling gold letters, were the words _The Knight Bus: International Edition._ (A/N: I know _PoA_ says the words are on the front of the bus, but this is the international edition!)

The door slid open and a gangling, pimple-faced youth in some kind of uniform appeared. "Welcome to the Knight Bus, the International Edition, emergency transportation for the witch or wizard stranded abroad—"

"Hello, Stan," Hagrid said. "Can we come in now?"

"'Course you can," Stan said, crestfallen because he couldn't deliver his little speech. He looked curiously at Chris as they got on the Knight Bus. "New 'Ogwarts student?"

"Yep. Dumbledore sent me ter fetch him."

"'E looks kind of old to be new," the young man said dubiously as the huge man gave him some silver coins.

"He's entering as a fifth year."

Stan nodded as he guided them down the center aisle of the bus. On either side of them, instead of the usual seats, were beds. Their occupants snored peacefully as they passed by. "'E must be real important, for Dumbledore to send you to get 'im."

"Dumbledore wanted me to make sure he knew how ter get ter Hogwarts," Hagrid said lightly.

"I 'eard the only other student Dumbledore sent you to fetch was 'Arry Potter," Stan persisted. At Hagrid's dark look, he paled and changed the subject. "Woss your name, anyway?" he asked Chris.

"He hasn't got one yet," Hagrid said before Chris could answer.

"What?" Chris and Stan asked in unison.

"He doesn't have a _proper wizard name_ yet," Hagrid said, his tone impatient.

Stan gave Chris an odd look. "All right, then," he said as they stopped at two beds near the back of the bus. "Well!" he said in a brighter tone, "'ere you are. Enjoy your trip. If you need anything, I'll be in front with the driver."

"What's all this about a wizard name?" Chris asked Hagrid when Stan had gone.

"I'll explain it to yeh later," he replied as he got into bed, which groaned under his weight. "Crikey, I'm tired. Couldn't sleep las' night. Yeh better get in bed, too, son," Hagrid said, gesturing toward the other bed.

"But I'm not—" Presently there was another loud _BANG_ and Chris was thrown backward, almost falling into Hagrid's bed as the bus began to move at a breakneck speed. He got into the other bed and sat up against the pillow, looking out the window as they left Brooklyn behind. 

"Yeh better get some sleep," Hagrid advised sleepily, bundling himself into his blankets. "It's a long way ter England."

"Yes, I know," Chris replied as Hagrid began to snore.

"Wake up, boy," a rough voice said in the darkness. 

Chris jolted awake as he felt someone prodding his shoulder. However, the face looking down at him didn't belong to his foster father, but to Hagrid. "We're here, son."

"At the airport?" he asked sleepily.

Hagrid looked confused. "In London."

"_London?!_" He sat up in bed and looked around wildly. "The bus took us all the way to London?!"

"'Course it did," Hagrid replied, still confused. "That's what we paid for."

__

Something tells me I'm not in Kansas anymore, Chris thought as he followed Hagrid out of the bus and onto the street. Sure enough, there were large red double-decker buses on the streets and people driving on the wrong side of the road. "Far out," he whispered. He wished it were morning so he could see everything better.

"Come on, son," Hagrid said, ignoring the loud _BANG_ and disappearance of the Knight Bus, "let's go into the Leaky Cauldron."

The Leaky Cauldron was a tiny hole-in-the-wall place, but it was packed with people having dinner. They were all wearing weird cloaks and things, the way witches and wizards did in story books. 

Hagrid went up to the bar. "Some dinner, Tom," he told the balding bartender, "and a room for the night."

"I told you I don't have any money," Chris said.

"Hogwarts will take care of it," Hagrid told Tom.

His face flamed as Tom took them to a small private dining area where a short, plump man in a pinstriped cloak was having some tea. "'Evening, Minister Fudge," Hagrid greeted the man, who only nodded briefly and went back to his tea.

"Don't say hi or anything," Chris muttered.

"What's that yeh said?"

"Just talking to myself," he said as they sat at another table. Tom brought them bowls of soup and a platter of sandwiches. Chris's stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything for the entire day, and Hagrid motioned for him to dig in.

In between bites of sandwich and spoonfuls of soup, Hagrid filled him in on the magical world. "OK, I think I understand that now," Chris said, interrupting Hagrid's discussion on how Muggles ignored magic, "now what's all this about a wizard name?"

The huge man took a sip of tea and turned deadly serious. "Now, son, I reckon Dumbledore'd be better at explainin' it all to yeh, but he tol' me yeh should _never_ tell anyone yer real name."

"Is this true for all the Muggles that enter the magical world?"

Hagrid nodded. "A new policy o' Dumbledore's."

"But why?"

"I'm not too clear on the details meself. Dumbledore'll explain it better than I ever could. He jus' says it's very important."

"So what will I tell people when they ask me what my name is?"

Hagrid looked reflectively at the boy seated across the table. Unlike his previous charge, this one was tall and lanky, with blond hair, startlingly dark brows, and clear blue eyes. There was a strange metal post piercing through his right eyebrow. "Hex. I think Dumbledore suggested yeh call yerself Hex. What d'yeh think?"

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Concluding A/N: Ha! Two chapters in about twelve hours! How about that? Actually, I finished the entire story early this year and am just feeding it to you in installments **evil laugh** At least I refine each part a bit before you get to see it. Hope you like how it's going so far – it gets better! And mad love goes to Taracollowen, for my first-ever review! ~ Ara Kane


	3. Into the Magical World

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Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the Leaky Cauldron (Tom just works there) and everyone else who sounds familiar. I also don't own Lucky Boys Confusion and the name "Walkman." The line about Kansas in Chapter 2 was also inspired directly by _The Wizard of Oz_. (I keep forgetting to cite all my sources! Sorry!) 

I own Hex, Maeve and Peter, and I love them dearly. I also own Kasper's Kauldron Keep (but Kasper hasn't paid me my cut of the profits in ages…) and Norman, who really is a sweet kitty. His name was inspired by the movie _Psycho_ and yes, I ripped Pinky Rafalski's name from the hockey player.

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Part Two — Hex

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Into the Magical World

Hex awoke the next day to a loud pounding on his door. "Hex!" Hagrid called from outside. "Wake up, son!" 

He hustled out of bed and opened the door. "Hi, Hagrid," he said. "Good morning."

"It's almost sundown, boy," the huge man told him. He nodded at the T-shirt and boxers Hex had worn to bed. "Good, yer dressed. Come along now, we have to get yeh yer school things."

"Where are we going to get this stuff in London?" Hex asked as he followed Hagrid down the stairs into the Leaky Cauldron's dining area, looking dubiously at his list of requirements.

"Diagon Alley," Hagrid replied, taking them out into the inn's small backyard and tapping the brick wall with his flowery pink umbrella.

"Where's tha—" His question was cut short when the wall wavered and disappeared, turning into an archway through which he could see people milling around many tiny shops. He followed Hagrid through the arch and looked with interest at the many things that were for sale.

"Come along," Hagrid said, setting off in one direction. "Have ter get yer things 'afore the shops close."

"I'm sorry I slept so long," Hex apologized. "It must have been jet lag."

"Wha's…jet lag?"

"It's what happens when it's a different time of day in the place where you are from the place that you were," he explained. Hagrid scratched his head, shrugged and grunted in a manner that told Hex he hadn't really understood.

It was getting dark, making it hard for Hex to see everything. Still, he could peek in the lighted shops and saw that they sold a lot of strange things — broomsticks, owls, cauldrons, and barrels of twisted roots — stuff he supposed was ordinary in the magical world.

Hagrid stopped in front of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Go on, let's get yer uniform."

Inside the shop, a squat little witch was busy with the hem of a purple robe worn by an elegant older witch. "Looks expensive," Hex said. "Don't you guys have a secondhand shop or something?"

"The school is payin' fer yer things, Hex," Hagrid said. "There's no need ter worry."

"Yeah, but I don't want to cost them too much money. I'm going to have a hard time paying it all back if we get new stuff."

"Yeh don't need ter pay anything back!"

"Sure I do." Hex folded his arms. "I may not have money but I've got my pride." For a while they just stood there outside the shop, looking at each other, neither refusing to back down.

"We've got a lot o' other things ter do, boy," Hagrid said finally, looking like a very hairy thundercloud. "Get in there and don' worry about the money. Yeh can talk it over with Dumbledore when yeh get ter Hogwarts."

Hex could tell Hagrid was pissed, but to his credit he didn't lay a finger on Hex at all. He knew he should be grateful that everything was coming free, including his black Hogwarts robes and a set of deep blue dress robes, but it just all seemed too good to be true somehow. Perhaps the niggling feeling in his gut was the suspicious nature Hagrid said all Muggles had.

Hagrid helped him buy his schoolbooks at Flourish & Blotts, a shop crammed with books of all sizes. "Man, look at that!" Hex said, crouching down to examine a magazine on a nearby rack. "The picture's moving!"

"Wizard photos do," Hagrid said, amused at the boy's amazement. It was an expression he saw on the faces of all Muggles entering the magical world.

They bought a pewter cauldron at Kasper's Kauldron Keep, and potion ingredients at an apothecary shop full of strange things that Hex couldn't believe existed. "Is there really such a thing as a unicorn?"

"Yeh know about them, then?" Hagrid asked, pleased. "Yeh migh' want ter take my Care of Magical Creatures class so yeh could see one — but I'm righ' partial to dragons meself. Maybe I'll try ter bring one ter class this year."

The last shop they visited was Ollivanders ("Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C."). With its dark windows and dusty corners, it looked closed, but Hagrid pushed open the door. A little bell tinkled as they entered.

"Good evening, gentlemen," said a soft voice belonging to a man whom Hex guessed must be Mr. Ollivander. He did look like he'd been making wands since 382 B.C.

"'Evening, Mr. Ollivander," Hagrid said. "The boy needs a wand."

Mr. Ollivander turned his strange gaze to Hex. "Ah, yes. If you will stand still for a minute, young man…"

Hex stood as still as he could as a tape measure wrapped itself around him, measuring him in many strange places. He tried not to laugh as the tape measure dug into his ribs, apparently on purpose.

"That's enough now," Mr. Ollivander said as he returned with an armload of long, thin boxes. The tape measure stopped trying to stuff itself into Hex's ear and fell limply to the floor. "That tape measure…not as serious as the old one…they don't make them the way they used to…Now, young man, please try one." He gestured to the boxes he had stacked on a single rickety chair. "Take a wand and give it a wave."

Hex took one from the nearest box (ten-and-a-half inches, maple, with a unicorn tail hair in the center) and a strange warmth entered his fingers. He waved it as he was told. There was a flash of golden light, as if Hex had switched on a flashlight. "Whoa!"

Mr. Ollivander nodded and smiled. "It looks as if you found the right wand on the first try. Would you care to try some more?"

Hex nodded. He wanted to see how the other wands would work. He took another (twelve inches, maple, with a dragon heartstring) and waved it. This time a shower of blue sparks sprayed from the end. Hagrid gaped and Mr. Ollivander shook his head. "Extraordinary…most extraordinary…"

"Why?" Hex asked after he waved still another (eleven-and-a-quarter inches, willow, with another unicorn tail hair). It shot silvery ribbons from its end this time. He watched them hang still in the air for a moment before fading away. Another wand (nine inches, maple, with a hippogriff feather) emitted a cloud of smoke that smelled a lot like incense.

"Well, young man," Mr. Ollivander explained, "a wizard can use a wand other than his own to practice the magical arts, but he will not get results that are as good as he would if he had used his own. I can usually tell if the wand favors the wizard when he takes it into his hand and shows the same kinds of results as you have with four different wands. It's practically unheard-of, young man, but it appears that most wands favor you."

"You mean I can get good results with just about any wand?" Hex asked, and grinned when Mr. Ollivander nodded. "Cool."

He tried a few more before finally deciding on a wand (eleven inches, ebony, with a dragon's heartstring) that gave a loud _bang_ and lit up at the end like a Fourth of July sparkler.

"Wow, that was off the hook," Hex said as they left Ollivanders with his wand. "I didn't know I had it in me to do things like that."

"All Muggle-born wizards never really realize it 'til they get their letters from Hogwarts," Hagrid said. "Now, we've got all yer school things, 'cept yer animal, if yeh want one. Yer letter said yeh were allowed an animal, didn't it?"

Hex nodded. "Well, do we have to buy one? Or — hey, will this guy do?"

Weaving around Hex's ankles was a scrawny, rusty orange cat. It looked up at him, squinted and gave a tinny _meow_. One of the cat's ears was missing. Hex picked it up and scratched its head. The cat mewed again and he chuckled. "He likes me."

Hagrid looked dubious. "Yeh sure yeh want 'im? Skinny little blighter, isn't he?"

The cat hissed and swatted a small paw at Hagrid. It was funny to see the huge man jump. "I think I'll call him Norman."

"Norman?"

"Yeah," Hex said as they walked back toward the Leaky Cauldron. "He looks like a psycho. Don't you, Norman?"

Norman squinted and rubbed his head on his new owner's arm.

"Ho! Hagrid!" someone called after they re-entered the Leaky Cauldron. A tall boy with bright red hair was standing and waving in the middle of the crowded dining room. He shared a table with a plump older woman, two stocky older boys, and a young girl, all with hair as red as his own.

"Ron Weasley! How are yeh?" Hagrid replied as he walked toward them with Hex in tow. "'Evening, Mrs. Weasley…Fred, George…young Ginny…"

"What are you doing in London?" Ron asked, shaking Hagrid's hand.

"Hogwarts business," Hagrid said, gesturing toward Hex and their packages. "Jus' took this lad shopping for school things."

"New at Hogwarts, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked him kindly. She reminded him of Pinky Rafalski's mother back in Brooklyn, who baked cookies and cleaned her house every morning, except Mrs. Weasley wasn't looking at him as if he was about to set the house on fire. "Oh, dear, what happened to your—"

Both she and Hex flushed. "Um, I had a…skateboard accident on the way here," he replied, smiling bravely. "I guess I look pretty awful." He knew that she knew where he got them. So what did it matter what he said?

"He's new but he's enterin' as a fifth year," Hagrid went on into the pause that followed, "same as you, Ron. Hex, this is Ron Weasley; his mother, Mrs. Weasley; his brothers, Fred and George; and this here is young Miss Ginny Weasley. This is Hex Holmstrom."

"Hi," Hex said. The two older boys, identical twins, nodded briskly to him, mumbling greetings through mouthfuls of baked potato.

"Hex?" Ginny asked, smiling. "That's a funny name."

"Shush, Ginny," her mother admonished.

"Hex is from America," Hagrid said, as if that explained it all.

"Oh, you have a cat," Ginny said. "May I pet him?"

"His name's Norman—" Hex said, and frowned when Norman hissed and scrambled up his arm to get away from Ginny. "—and he needs to work on his people skills. I'm sorry, I don't think he's used to strangers yet."

"D'you know what house you're in yet?" Fred asked, having swallowed his food.

"House? Uh, no, I don't think so," Hex said.

"This entire pack of Weasleys are in Gryffindor House," Hagrid said. "Maybe you'll be there, too."

"It'll help to know some people at a new school," Mrs. Weasley said. 

Hex nodded. It was a lesson he'd learned early in life, moving around as much as he had.

"Won't the two of you join us for dinner?" she asked then.

"No, thank yeh," Hagrid said. "We've already eaten and I really have ter be goin' back ter Hogwarts."

"And I'm really tired," Hex fibbed. "Jet lag, you know." He felt awkward about eating with people he didn't know. Then he noticed how little the Weasleys had eaten and how worn their robes were, and he was glad he followed Hagrid's lead and refused.

"That's righ' — and yeh know yeh young 'uns have ter be on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow mornin'," Hagrid said.

"Guess we'll see you then," George said in a friendly manner, but kept his eyes averted from Hex's battered face.

"Guess you will," Hex replied. "It was nice meeting all of you."

"It was our pleasure, dear," Mrs. Weasley told him. There was a mixture of pity and curiosity in her plump, open face and pained smile. "Good night."

The hectic shopping trip helped, but Hex still had a hard time falling asleep that night. Tom had to unlock the door the next morning, go inside and wake him up. After that Hex only had enough time to pull on his jeans and wolf down a few bites of breakfast before he was out the door and in a cab with Norman and his new school trunk, on his way to King's Cross to take the train to Hogwarts.

At the station, Hex took a trolley and pushed his trunk to Platform 9. Tom had explained the night before that all he had to do was run through the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10 to get onto Platform Nine and Three-quarters.

He wheeled his trolley to the barrier. "Looks real solid," Hex murmured, half-afraid he was going to run headlong into a wall. But what were a few more bumps and bruises? He broke into a run, watching as the barrier drew nearer and nearer. At the last minute — Muggle reflexes, he supposed — he squeezed his eyes shut, but never felt the crash of his trunk hitting the wall. 

Hex ran a couple of steps more before finally opening his eyes, and found himself standing on Platform Nine and Three-quarters. "Well, I'll be damned," he said. "It worked!"

Platform Nine and Three-quarters looked just like the ordinary train platforms, with people in groups saying goodbye to their families and getting onto the waiting train. He tried to look for the Weasleys, but there were just too many people. 

Hex hoisted his trunk onto the train, then dragged it down the aisle and into an empty compartment. With any luck, he'd have it all to himself for the whole trip.

He put Norman down on one seat and sprawled in another. Outside, he could hear people talking, laughing, and arguing over seats. Fathers were saying goodbye and mothers chased after their children with last-minute reminders, scoldings or sweaters. This was a strange, strange thing he had gotten himself into, Hex thought as he put some Lucky Boys Confusion on his Walkman. (A/N: GoF only covers Hogwarts!) He couldn't wait to see how it was going to turn out.

Just then, the door to his compartment opened and a small girl wandered in. She smiled vaguely at him as he helped her stow away her trunk, and curled up in a seat next to the window. Norman jumped promptly into her lap.

Hex watched her pet his cat and smile out the window. She wasn't very tall, but looked to be around his age, with very pale skin and long dark hair. She looked like she was part elf, or part mermaid — and Hex knew it was a possibility that she was either. (Maybe even both.)

His covert observations were interrupted when the compartment door slid open again. "Ah, Maeve," an oily voice said, with the slightest hint of a sneer. "There you are." Standing in the doorway was a slight boy with hair paler than Hex's own and two very large boys on either side of him like ugly bookends. "Naughty girl. Father told me not to let you out of my sight."

Maeve stared at the newcomers with golden-green eyes. She didn't look happy at being found.

"That mangy creature on your lap won't be able to give you the same things I can," the pale boy told her. Norman arched his back and hissed as if he understood what the boy had said. 

"Come now, there's no need to give me the cold shoulder. You are practically my girlfriend," he went on. "Mother and Father promised your mother before she died that they would make sure you married well. And goodness knows your bloodline could do with some good, pure wizarding blood." He glared at Hex when he snickered. "Yes?"

"Nothing," Hex said, holding up his hands. "Just an interested spectator."

"I didn't ask for an audience. Why don't you run along while I finish my business with Maeve?"

"_Run along?_ Buddy, I seem to recall getting here first." Hex got to his feet. The pale boy was skinnier and about half a foot shorter than he, but the bodyguards certainly made up for that. "Why don't _you_ run along, boy? It's obvious that the lady is not interested, anyway."

The boy's face was now pink with anger. "Do you know who you're talking to?"

"The filling in an asshole sandwich?"

There was a giggle from the girl behind him, but the two gorillas didn't move. Hex supposed they didn't get the joke. "Dude, you picked on my cat and insulted her family, and you expect her to be your _girlfriend_? Why don't you try again after Mummy and Daddy have bought you a clue?"

The pale boy looked furious. "Crabbe! Goyle!"

At the sound of what Hex guessed was their names, the two big boys started toward him. Well, he thought again, what were a few more bumps and bruises? They didn't get very far, however, because something behind them was holding them back. When they finally realized they weren't moving, Crabbe and Goyle looked over their shoulders, saw whatever it was, and scrambled away. The pale boy glared at Hex. "I'm not through with you yet."

"Oh, I'm peeing in my pants," Hex drawled, receiving one final glare before the pale boy stalked away. He then found himself face to face with another boy as big as Crabbe and Goyle. "You want some of this too?" he demanded, still on the defensive.

The big boy looked at him blankly, then looked over Hex's shoulder at the girl in the compartment. "Was Malfoy bothering you again, Maeve?"

"He tried," Maeve said in a clear, musical voice, "but this boy stopped him."

The boy looked at Hex again, grunted to himself, and held out a hand. "Peter Brandegoris."

Finally realizing this one was friendly, Hex shook the offered hand. "Chr—Hex Holmstrom."

Peter entered the compartment carrying a school trunk like it was just a cardboard box. He put it away easily and sat down next to Maeve. "This is Maeve Moondaughter."

Maeve smiled mistily at Hex. "Hello. And thank you for coming to my rescue."

"Uh, it was nothing." _Be cool, Holmstrom. If you try to hit on Peter's girlfriend, he'll hit you._

They all jumped when the door opened yet again and Ron, the tall, redheaded boy from the Leaky Cauldron dining room, stuck his head inside. "Hi. Mind if we kip in here with you? All the compartments are full. We couldn't get an empty one _because someone just HAD to go to Diagon Alley at the last minute and buy extra schoolbooks—_"

"I may need them for reference!" a bossy female voice behind him retorted.

Hex chuckled. "Hey. It's Ron, isn't it?"

Ron recognized him and grinned. "That's right. And you're Hex. Can we sit in here with you?"

"Go on ahead."

Hex and Peter helped Ron with his school trunk. A dark-haired boy with glasses then came in with his own trunk and a cage containing a large white owl. Last but not least was Ginny's trunk. She had a cage too, containing what looked like a feathery Mexican jumping bean that was hooting excitedly.

A girl with masses of bushy brown hair stayed in the aisle. "I suppose I'll go on to the front of the train," she said.

"No, stay with us," Ron said. "Ginny can sit on Harry's lap."

Ginny blushed as red as her hair and smacked her brother's arm. The other girl frowned. "Very funny, Ron. You know prefects have two compartments reserved. Why waste a perfectly good seat?"

Ron shrugged. "Beats me. Oh, before you go — meet Hex Holmstrom. He's new at Hogwarts. Hex, this is Hermione Granger. She's a prefect." Hex and Hermione nodded politely at each other. "So if you ever get into any trouble, she'll smooth things over for you."

"_Ron!!!_" Hermione said. "I can't abuse my position that way!"

"Only bluffing! OK, you've met him, you can clear off now."

Hermione sniffed in annoyance, shut the compartment door, and was gone. "I just love doing that," Ron chortled. He gestured toward his sister. "You remember Ginny, don't you…and last but definitely not least, this is Harry Potter."

The dark-haired boy nodded to Hex, his glasses nearly sliding off his nose. Harry didn't stare at his bruises too much. He seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts, but Hex wasn't about to complain.

"You guys know Maeve and Peter?" Hex asked as they took their seats.

Ginny giggled. "Yeah," Ron mumbled, turning pink and nodding in their direction. Maeve seemed to have that kind of effect on guys.

"So," Hex asked Peter, "who was that ferret-face guy bothering Maeve earlier?"

"Ferret-face guy?" Harry asked, confused.

"Draco Malfoy came by earlier," Peter explained, smiling as the others began to laugh. "I'd say ferret-face is a very fitting description for him, wouldn't you?"

"Professor Moody turned him into an amazing bouncing ferret last year for trying to attack Harry," Ron told Hex, still grinning. "It was the _coolest_ thing I had ever seen."

"Guess he deserved it," Hex agreed, smiling. "So does he own the school or something?"

"He likes to think so."

Hex shook his head. "What a loser. He thinks he's so bad-ass…he's just an ass."


	4. Hogwarts

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Disclaimer: I only own Hex, Maeve, Peter, Norman, the Healer's Garden and Maggie McGonagall, whom you will meet later. JK Rowling owns the roof over their heads, clothes on their backs, and food in their dear little fictitious bellies. She also owns the Hogwarts Express, the carriages (it's monopolistic market control, I tell you!), Harry Potter, and all his friends. Hanna-Barbera owns Scooby-Doo. Santa Claus belongs to everyone, and no one wants to admit they own Brussels sprouts. :-p

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Introductory Remarks: Thanks, Taracollowen, my staunch supporter. So long as one person digs it, it's all worth it. :D ~ Ara Kane

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Hogwarts

It was already dark when the Hogwarts Express reached its destination. Hex and his new friends, all of them now wearing their black school robes, made their way down the aisle to get off the train as a female voice instructed them to leave their trunks on board. 

They found Hagrid on the platform, holding a lantern very high above his head and roaring for the first year students to come to him. The huge man, however, found time to give Hex a wink. 

The rest of the students were to take carriages to Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy glared at Hex as he stalked by with Crabbe and Goyle. "I'm not through with you yet," he said.

Hex blew him a kiss before getting into a carriage with his new friends. "You're mental," Ron chuckled, shaking his head in admiration. 

"D'you know what house you'll be in?" Hermione asked him when their carriage began to move. She had been able to join them because Ginny was riding to Hogwarts with some fourth year friends.

"What is it about this whole House thing?" Hex asked. "Is it like a class?"

"Each year is divided into houses," she explained. "You take all your classes with your house. Sometimes you'll have classes with another house, and we get to choose some of our own classes, but you'll always be with your house."

"Oh. Well, no, I don't know what house I'm in yet. What house are you guys in?"

"Ron, Harry and I are in Gryffindor House," Hermione said. 

"Maeve and I are in Hufflepuff," Peter said. Maeve nodded and smiled at him as she petted Norman with a small hand. The cat hadn't left her since he first jumped on her lap.

"Hufflepuff?" Hex laughed. "Sounds like a breakfast cereal." (A/N: There's my title!)

"It may sound funny," Peter said, "but I'd rather be in Hufflepuff than in Slytherin."

"I take it Ferret-face is in Slytherin?"

Ron smiled slightly. "Well, yes, but besides that, Slytherin House is known for turning out all the Dark witches and wizards that ever came from Hogwarts."

A solemn hush had descended over the carriage. Hex noted that the others were all looking sideways at Harry. "Dark witches and wizards?" he asked, although he felt like he shouldn't have.

Hermione looked at him incredulously. "Don't you know _anything_? And they're letting you in as a fifth year?"

"_You_ didn't know anything until you got your letter from Hogwarts," Ron pointed out.

"Neither did I," Harry said flatly. He turned to Hex. "Just so you know, the story is that a very powerful Dark wizard named Voldemort" — at this point everyone else in the carriage cringed — "and a group of his followers were killing and torturing witches and wizards all over the magical world. For a while we all thought he was destroyed, but he's back, stronger than ever, and gathering his people again. And we're doing all we can to stop him." 

"Freaky," Hex said. From the looks on the others' faces, he could tell there was more to the story; but from the hardness in Harry's voice, he could tell that was all they were willing to let him know.

When the carriages came to a stop, Hex disembarked and found himself standing in front of a tall, forbidding castle, darker even than the inky black sky. 

"Mr. Holmstrom?" said a crisp voice at his side. A thin witch in black robes appeared as if out of nowhere. "You will come with me." 

"That's Professor McGonagall," Ron whispered. "Better get hopping. We'll see you inside."

"Good luck," Maeve whispered. Hex remembered she still had Norman only after Professor McGonagall had herded him into a small chamber along with a bunch of little people. First years, he supposed.

Professor McGonagall addressed the group. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, even though she didn't sound like she meant it. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." (A/N: From _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ by JK Rowling, p. 114. I made it so she gives the same speech every year. Hey, if it ain't broke…right? :D ) With that, she left the chamber.

Hex watched the other students try to straighten their hair and clothing. All of them were wondering what the Sorting Ceremony would involve. He listened to a skinny boy with too-long hair spread the rumor that they would have to wrestle a troll and it would fling them to wherever their house was. _What if you won?_ Hex wanted to ask, chuckling to himself.

Professor McGonagall was back in a few moments. "You will come out now," she told the group of new students. "Follow me, and proceed in an orderly fashion."

They filed out into the Great Hall, with Hex bringing up the rear. 

There wasn't a troll in sight when they entered the massive chamber, but there was plenty more to see. Before them were four long tables set with golden plates and goblets, full of people in long black robes and pointed black hats. Behind these tables was another long table, occupied this time by the teachers. Nearest the new students were a small, low stool and a patched black hat. Everything was drenched in glittering, golden light from the thousands of candles hanging far overhead.

After a moment of silence, the hat — yes, the hat! — began to sing.

[INSERT HAT SONG HERE] (A/N: Yes, I know, I'm lazy. But I really can't think of anything.)

After the hat finished its song, it bowed to the entire Great Hall amid great applause. Professor McGonagall then came forward with a roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will come forward and try on the hat," she instructed the new students as she unrolled her parchment. "Aaron, William!"

Hex watched the skinny boy leave the line and approach the stool. He looked nervously at the hat, as if it was still going to turn into a troll and come after him. But he picked it up, sat down on the stool, and put it on. "RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted after a while. A table full of people applauded as William took off the hat and walked, relieved, to join the Ravenclaw table.

"That was it?" a girl next to Hex asked no one in particular. "All we have to do is try on the hat?"

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Wanna try wrestling a troll? Hex wanted to ask her.

He watched Professor McGonagall call forth people in alphabetical order. "Hitchcock, Mary Sue!"

A rather pudgy girl came forward, tried on the hat, and was pronounced a Slytherin. Then it was his turn. "Holmstrom, Hex!"

Hex came forward, trying not to look at anyone, sat down on the low stool with some difficulty, and tried on the hat. It came down right over his eyes. 

"Hmm," a small voice whispered in his ear, "where shall I put you? This is an older head than I'm used to reading…sharp, very sharp, stubborn and a little bit reckless, too…a lot of curiosity, and, oh yes, even more endurance — I believe I shall put you in HUFFLEPUFF!"

The hat called out this last word to the rest of the Hall. Hex removed the hat and joined Maeve and Peter at the Hufflepuff table. "Sounds like a breakfast cereal?" Peter asked him with a smile.

"It still does," Hex said, grinning as he sat down next to Maeve. He turned to his other side and nearly fell off his chair in shock. "_Holy sh—_"

The plump, jolly-looking ghost sitting in the chair next to him _tsk_ed warningly. "I wouldn't say any more if I were you," he said with a smile.

"That's the Fat Friar," Maeve told him. "He's our house ghost."

Hex took a look around and saw that there were ghosts sitting at the other tables, too. "Oh. Just my luck that I end up with one I have to watch my language around."

"Hex Holmstrom?" someone drawled from behind him. "What kind of a name is that?"

Hex turned to find Ferret-face sitting at the table next to theirs. "Better than yours, that's for sure." 

"I'll have you know that Malfoy is an incredibly old wizarding name."

"It needs to be discontinued," he replied coolly.

Malfoy glared. "You have a smart mouth." 

"And it needs feeding." Peter nudged Hex. "Forget him, Hex. Trading insults with Ferret-face is just a waste of time."

Hex laughed and turned away from Malfoy without another word. Before him, the golden serving plates were now filled with food. "Yeah, I can think of a better way to spend my time."

After the start-of-term banquet, the students got up, sated and sleepy, to go to their respective dormitories. Ron and Harry caught up with Hex as he prepared to follow the other Hufflepuffs to their dormitory. "It's too bad you didn't get sorted into Gryffindor with us," Harry said. He sounded a lot friendlier now than he had on the carriage ride.

"At least you're in Hufflepuff — that means you'll get to have most of your classes with Maeve," Ron whispered with a grin, looking over to where the small girl was surrounded by quite a few admirers. All of them were trying to take Norman, to carry him for her, and avoid the cat's wildly slashing claws at the same time.

Hex grinned, making sure Peter hadn't heard. "It doesn't mean we can't be friends, right?"

"Right." Harry nodded and smiled. "We'll see you in Herbology…Hufflepuff and Gryffindor have that class together."

"Yeah, see you." Hex watched them go and was about to follow the other Hufflepuffs when Hermione blocked his way. "Hi."

"Professor Dumbledore would like to see you," she told him. "I'm to take you to his office."

"Lead the way," he said. He gestured to Peter and Maeve that he had to go somewhere with Hermione, then followed the prefect down a number of drafty, dimly-lit corridors and passageways. A number of mysterious shadows flitted around just out of the corner of his eye. "I feel like I'm in a Scooby Doo cartoon," he murmured, half-expecting a badly-disguised villain to jump out from behind the stone gargoyle now looming before them.

"You get used to it," she said, stopping in front of the gargoyle and rapping on it smartly.

Hex jumped when the gargoyle stepped down from its pedestal. "_Holy cr—_"

Fortunately he didn't finish that exclamation, either, because the gargoyle moved aside to reveal a doorway in which the formidable Professor McGonagall stood. "Thank you, Miss Granger," the older witch said. "Come in, both of you."

He followed Hermione into a circular room crammed full of all sorts of strange objects that hummed, whistled or spewed a jet of silver bubbles at regular intervals. Besides Professor McGonagall, two other witches were inside. They stood by a desk, at which sat a silver-haired wizard who looked like Santa Claus after a very successful crash diet. Hex supposed this was Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"They have arrived, Professor," Professor McGonagall told the seated wizard.

Dumbledore turned to the pair and smiled. "Hello, Miss Granger. Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Holmstrom."

"Uh, thanks," Hex said, "sir." These were the first adults ever to welcome him to a new school. He supposed they hadn't seen his records yet. 

At the headmaster's bidding, he and Hermione sat in the cushy chairs near the desk. "Well, Mr. Holmstrom," he said briskly, "let's get you settled in, shall we? Minerva?"

"You will enter the fifth year with other students your age," Professor McGonagall told Hex, "that means you have four years' worth of lessons to learn along with the standard fifth-year curriculum. We have tried to find a suitable tutor for you and I believe Miss Granger is the best person for the job."

Hermione flushed with pleasure, but also looked daunted at the thought of having to teach him four years' worth of lessons in as little time as possible.

"I wouldn't have recommended you, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, as if she had read the girl's mind, "if I did not think you could handle it."

"Yes, Professor," she said, looking determined now.

"And we wouldn't take you in as a fifth year, Mr. Holmstrom," Dumbledore said, the firelight twinkling in his half-moon glasses, "if we did not think you could catch up with the rest."

"Uh…thanks," Hex said, "Professor."

"Now that your academics are taken care of," Dumbledore went on, "we will discuss other things. Mr. Holmstrom, we are aware that you are…not financially stable."

"I'm broke, you mean," the boy blurted out, then blushed under Professor McGonagall's quelling stare. He didn't think any teacher could cow him, but something about this one was different. Maybe it was the fact that she could turn him into a Brussels sprout if she wanted to.

"Yes, perhaps you could say that. Personally I could never understand this Muggle obsession with money, but even in the magical world such a thing is needed to feed, clothe and educate one. Thus, we have taken the liberty of finding employment for you." 

"A job? Where? When do I start?"

"The Healer's Garden is an apothecary in a nearby Muggle village," Dumbledore told him. "It is run by Miss Maggie McGonagall, sister of our very own Professor McGonagall. She needs someone to do odd jobs around the shop. We have spoken to Miss McGonagall and she assures us that you can do some work for her on weekends in exchange for your lessons and board."

"Will that be enough?"

"Certainly." The wizard waved off Hex's protests. "Please do not worry about money, Mr. Holmstrom. You are — how do Muggles say it? — on scholarship." Dumbledore looked with concern at the boy's face. "Now, I believe Madam Pomfrey should look at those bruises."

He'd forgotten about those. "Y-you don't have to," Hex stammered as a dark-haired witch advanced upon him, taking a bottle and clean cloth from a pocket in her robes. "Really— they'll clear up—"

"I don't want people looking at you and thinking I can't cure anything as simple as cuts and bruises," Madam Pomfrey declared, dabbing gently at his bruises. Hex felt a delicious coolness on his skin as the swelling disappeared along with, he suspected, the discoloration.

Madam Pomfrey smiled when she was finished. "Handsome devil, isn't he? Except perhaps for that thing in his eyebrow."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore said, chuckling at the blush that spread over the boy's now-healed face. "Now, Mr. Holmstrom, I shall now leave you in the capable hands of Professor Sprout, your Head of House. Good night."

Hex nodded goodbye to him and Hermione, and let the gray-haired witch bustle him to his dormitory before remembering that he forgot to ask Dumbledore why he was here in the first place.

The Hufflepuff dormitory was located in the eastern-facing side of the Hogwarts castle. A shiny, if rather short and dumpy, suit of armor guarded the entrance. When one approached, the armor assumed a battle stance, brandishing a stout war ax. When given the correct password ("Day lily"), it let you pass with a rather jerky bow. 

Professor Sprout led Hex into the common room, where a few students were still chatting, and showed him the staircase that led to the boys' dormitories. "You will stay in the one marked 'Fifth Years' with all the other fifth year boys," she told him kindly.

"I'll show him where it is," Peter said, rising from the couch where he had been sitting with Maeve. Hex wasn't surprised to note that no other guys were bugging Maeve now that the big boy was around.

"Marvelous! You've made a friend already!" Professor Sprout beamed at Hex. "Thank you very much, Peter. I hope you and all the other Hufflepuffs will make our new student feel welcome. I shall see you all in Herbology class," she said as she left for her own rooms.

Maeve also smiled at him and handed over his cat. "Norman is such a sweet kitty. Thank you for lending him to me."

__

Norman? Sweet? Hex looked down at the cat, which blinked at him innocently. "If you say so. Are you on your way to bed?"

She yawned delicately. "Yes, I should be going. I'll see you in the morning. Good night."

"Good night," both boys said and started off for their own dormitory. "She's nice," Hex said as they walked up the stairs.

"Yes, she is," Peter said, opening the door marked _Fifth Years_. "Sometimes too much so."

Hex supposed yellow was the Hufflepuff color, because it was everywhere. It was the main color in the common room, and in the boys' dormitory the bed hangings were yellow. It was kind of girly for his taste, but his bed was as big as his entire alcove back in Brooklyn.

He found his trunk and knapsack at the foot of the bed nearest the door. The hangings on three other beds were already drawn. Hex realized he was really tired.

"Do you want to use the bathroom first?" Peter asked.

"Nah, you go ahead." Hex crashed down onto his bed as the other boy left the room with his pajamas. He fell asleep without even removing his shoes, Norman sprawled across his stomach.


	5. Hex Settles In

****

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Hogwarts and everyone in it, except Hex, Maeve, Peter and Norman, all of whom are mine. I guess I also own Shivering Shummelflubs and the _Scurio_ Charm. I also don't own the name "Walkman."

****

Introductory Remarks: There, he's in Hogwarts! About damn time, huh? :D

__

__

Hex Settles In

Hex jerked awake the next morning to claws digging into his shoulder. "Ow! Crazy cat!"

Norman hissed playfully at him and jumped off the bed. The cat darted out the door as Peter entered the dormitory, already dressed. "Good morning," he greeted Hex.

"It's not morning," Hex groaned sleepily. "It's the middle of the night."

Peter chuckled and tossed a towel onto the other boy's face. "It's seven o'clock. If you don't get moving, you'll be late for breakfast."

He groaned again, but sat up. The other beds in the dormitory were already empty. "I can't believe you're all up at this insane hour." 

There wasn't time to take a bath, so Hex just pulled on his school robes before following Peter down to the Great Hall. 

Maeve was already at the Hufflepuff table when Hex and Peter arrived. "Good morning," she said pleasantly, her crowd of fans disappearing as they took the two free seats next to her. 

"'Morning," Hex replied, risking a smile. The sunlight streaming down through the magical domed ceiling tinted her hair red. "Thanks," he said when Peter pushed a plate of fried eggs at him.

Presently, a bevy of owls streamed in through the high windows. Hex watched them swoop down and drop packages and envelopes onto their owners' laps and plates. "So that's what the letter meant when it said they awaited my owl," he observed. "Do they ever— " Suddenly, a Ravenclaw girl shrieked and ran from the room, scrubbing at her hair with her napkin. Hex snickered. "Guess they do."

He then noticed a group of students their age, whispering and looking at them from the far end of the Hufflepuff table. "I take it those are the other fifth year people," Hex murmured.

"Oh, yes," Maeve said. She smiled and waved at them "You'll meet them later. They're very nice."

While the boys in the group reddened with pleasure, the girls had looks on their faces like Norman did when he met Malfoy on the train. "I'll bet," Hex said.

Halfway through breakfast, some boys ventured over to give Maeve her course schedule for the year and were charmed into getting copies for Hex and Peter as well. "Oh, hey, hang on," Hex said suddenly when he received his. "I have to talk to Hermione."

"Don't take too long," Peter warned. "We have Potions first thing today, and Professor —"

"I won't," he replied, setting off for the Gryffindor table.

Hermione was sitting with her friends when Hex approached. "Uh, hi," he said to her. "Can we talk?"

"Oi, Hermione, watch out for this one," Fred warned.

"He's dangerous," George told her in a voice of doom. 

Ginny giggled. Hermione ignored them and smiled up at him. "What's up?"

"_What's up?_" Ron mimicked, batting his eyelashes.

"Uh, I was wondering if you have your schedule already," Hex said. "I thought maybe we could agree on when we could meet so you can tutor me."

"Oh, of course," Hermione said, taking her schedule from her bag. "When are you free?"

It was hard to concentrate with all the heckling from the Weasleys, but they agreed to meet in the library at two o' clock on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, after classes, and on weekends after Hex returned from work. "All right, then," he said, smiling. "I'll see you later." 

"What's your first class for the day?" Ron asked him.

Hex checked his schedule. "Uh…Potions. Why?"

The other boy pointed to the Hufflepuff table. Maeve and Peter were gone. "You're late."

"_Holy shit!_" Hex called a hasty goodbye to the Gryffindors, scooped up his things, and dashed out of the Great Hall. 

He stopped short out in the corridor. He had no idea where the Potions class was being held. How the hell was he going to get there?

"Ah, my lost sheep!" the ghost of the Fat Friar said as he floated in through a wall. "Late for class?"

"Can you show me how to get to the Potions classroom?" Hex panted, frantic.

"Certainly, dear boy! That's what house ghosts are for, after all. Just follow me!" And he glided down the corridor, singing in a very nice baritone.

Hex ran after the ghost, heart pounding. He'd never been afraid of being late before; but he didn't want to go back to Brooklyn, either. He followed the Fat Friar down wide and narrow corridors, jumping over invisible steps when the ghost told him to, until he found himself at the bottom of a dark, mossy staircase, before a heavy, iron-bound door. 

Hex darted inside just as the teacher was calling his name. "Holmstrom, Hex!"

"Here!" he yelled, skidding to a stop, sneakers squeaking on the slimy stone floor, right in front of the teacher's desk.

The professor glared at him down a very long, hooked nose. "You are late, Mr. Holmstrom."

"I am not. I was in the classroom when you called me."

There were a few smothered titters behind him and the teacher's bony face tightened. "Odd," he said softly. "I was the Potions Master the last time I checked. You are late when I say you are, boy. That will be ten points from Hufflepuff. You are fortunate it isn't more. Go partner Brandegoris."

Hex went to join Peter at his cauldron, muttering curses under his breath. Maeve, standing at another cauldron next to a skinny girl with mousy hair, shot him a sympathetic look before the professor began his lecture. 

"That Professor Snape is a real…jerk," Hex said through gritted teeth as the Hufflepuffs made their way to the Hogwarts greenhouses for double Herbology with the Gryffindors. "If you're in the classroom when he calls your name, you're not late. Any two-bit…creep knows that. If he were in Brooklyn, he'd get his pants sued off."

"But we're not in Brooklyn," Peter pointed out.

"Don't worry, Hex," Maeve consoled him. "Everybody hates Professor Snape, except the Slytherins."

"I take it he's their Head of House?" Hex snorted. "It figures."

But other than Snape's being a jerk, Potions wasn't so bad. The professor could pick on him for being late and talking back, but Hex discovered he was pretty good at Potions. He made a perfect Impervius Potion — a concoction that made anything waterproof — even with Snape hanging around behind him, making snide comments. In that respect, the hook-nosed Potions teacher reminded Hex of Mr. Debrew, who taught him chemistry at Lawton. Debrew suddenly sprouted bright blue hair out of his ears while criticizing Hex's use of the Bunsen burner. Looking back, Hex supposed that was actually his fault.

Professor Sprout was already in the greenhouse, smiling and greeting her students as they filed in. "Good morning, everyone, and welcome to another year at Hogwarts," she said when they were all inside. "Before we begin, I would like to introduce our new student, Mr. Hex Holmstrom. Hex, won't you come up here so people can see you?"

"Oh, man." Hex groaned silently as he made his way to the front of the greenhouse, ducking a curly vine that suddenly swung out at him. He turned and faced what looked like a sea of faces, above which he could see Ron trying to stifle his guffaws. Hex arched an eyebrow at the Gryffindor boy, then managed a smile and an elaborate bow for the class. "Hi, everybody."

"_Ooh, he's cute!_" he heard one of the Gryffindor girls — a slender little thing with honey-colored skin and liquid dark eyes — whisper. Hex winked at her and watched her giggle behind her hand.

"That was well done, my dear boy," Professor Sprout said, looking like a proud mother hen. "You may go back to your seat."

"Thanks." Feeling better now, he made his way back to his place. Later on, Harry, Ron and Hermione joined him, Peter and Maeve as they worked on repotting the Shivering Shummelflubs, clumps of purple leaves that shook and tried to jump out of their hands. Hex shot Ron a playfully dangerous stare as he wrestled one into a pot. "You're dead, Red."

"What did _I_ do?!" he asked, jerking his gaze away from Maeve.

"You were laughing at me!"

"Ignore him, he laughs at _everybody_," Hermione said loftily. 

"Then all of us victims must gang up on him someday," Hex said, but he chuckled. "Hey, I'm just playing around, all right?"

They heard a chorus of giggles coming nearer and nearer. Two Gryffindor girls, one of them the dark one Hex had winked at earlier, were approaching. "Hello," the fair one with curly brown hair said in a carefully casual voice. "We were wondering if you needed any help."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We're just fine here, thank you," she said flatly. "Lavender, Parvati, this is Hex Holmstrom. Hex, this is Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil from Gryffindor House."

"Oh, hi," Parvati said, batting her eyelashes at him. 

"Hey," Hex replied. "How's it goin'?"

"You talk funny," Lavender said, giggling. 

"_All_ of you talk funny," Hex replied, grinning. "I'm from Brooklyn."

"That's in America," Ron explained to the two girls.

Lavender's violet eyes widened. "N'Sync is from America! Do you know them?"

"Uh, I've heard of them," Hex said. 

"You must be really smart to enter Hogwarts as a fifth year," Parvati said in a worshipful voice.

Harry, Ron and Peter were trying not to snigger. Hex reddened. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but Hermione still has to find out if I'm smart. She'll be helping me catch up," he explained.

"Oh, Hermione, you're so _lucky_!" It was Lavender's turn to bat her eyelashes at Hex. "Well, if you need any extra help, we're—_oh!!!_" She squealed and jumped back as a Shummelflub rocketed toward her and left a large smudge of dirt in the very center of her chest. "_Oh, NO!!! My robes!!!_"

"Uh, thanks," Hex said lamely. "I may take you up on that offer."

Parvati shot him a winsome smile before ducking the still-free Shummelflub and leading away Lavender, who was dangerously close to hysterics.

Ron grinned at him. "Someone's a hit with the ladies," he observed. 

"Watch out," Harry cautioned as he tried to catch the Shummelflub. "If we have another Yule Ball this year, you might end up with more partners than you bargained for."

They tried to catch the rogue Shummelflub for a few more minutes, until Maeve ended the game by snatching it deftly out of mid-air. "I'm sorry." She blinked innocently at them as she crammed it into a pot. "I lost my grip."

"Well, that was a very good catch!" Ron said enthusiastically. "You should play…er…what's that Muggle game again…"

"Baseball," Hex said, grinning at Maeve when Peter wasn't looking.

"I was going to say cricket."

"Well, I'm American and I called it, so it's baseball."

"I am _starved_," Hex declared when they entered the Great Hall for lunch. He staggered melodramatically, to the amusement of his friends, to the Hufflepuff table, which was already set with many tempting dishes. _"Food! Give me food!"_

"Here," Maeve giggled, passing him a platter.

He filled his plate eagerly and was ready to dig in when he heard someone come up behind him. The next thing he knew, he was wearing his lunch. "Hey! What the—"

Sneering down at him were Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy stepped forward. "I told you I wasn't through with you, you insolent Yank Mudblood."

Sputtering and covered in gravy, peas and pork chops, Hex could only glare furiously as the trio of Slytherins moved down the table, did the same thing to some second year girls, then moved on to wreak havoc at the Ravenclaw table. "Dumb ass moron mother—" He bit back the rest of his outburst when he remembered Maeve was sitting next to him. "Sorry. I'm just mad. Good thing we learned that Cleaning Charm this morning."

Hex pointed his wand at himself. _"Scurio!"_

However, instead of making the stain disappear, he made the cloth under it disappear as well, and he found himself looking down at a gaping hole in his robes. "What the—"

Maeve giggled again. "I don't think you've quite mastered the technique," she said. "Remember, Professor Flitwick said you have to be in a suitable frame of mind for your charms to work."

"I wanted my clothes clean!" 

"But you wanted to get at Draco and his friends more," she pointed out. Maeve produced her own wand. _"Reparo!"_ she said, restoring the cloth and the stains. _"Scurio!"_ And the stains promptly disappeared. "See?" she asked, smiling at him. "You just have to concentrate."

All of the other Hufflepuffs were already in the dormitory when Hex got there after a late dinner. "How was the tutoring?" Peter asked. He and Maeve were seated at a table doing their essay on "The Economic Significance (or Lack Thereof) of Troll Labor in the Magical World" for Professor Binns' History of Magic class.

"Fine." Hex joined them to begin work on his own essay. "We spent most of today in the library, though, so I haven't actually practiced any spells."

"You'll have plenty of time to do that on the weekends," Maeve said.

"Ah, Hex, you're back," Professor Sprout hailed him as she entered the common room. She liked to go round the dormitory after dinner to look in on her Hufflepuffs. "How was your first day at Hogwarts?"

"Just fine, thanks, ma'am," he said.

"Good to hear it." She patted his shoulder, leaving a few smudges of greenhouse dirt on his robes. "And the tutoring with Miss Granger?"

"It's off to a good start."

"Marvelous! I'm sure you'll be able to get all caught up in no time. Now, I've talked to Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, and she says you can attend her lesson on Thursday afternoon, if you are interested."

__

Flying? "That would be cool — I mean, great," Hex said, smiling. "Thank you, Professor Sprout."

"You're welcome, my boy. If you take to it you could get a spot on our House quidditch team." (A/N: Someone said "quidditch" should be a common noun, like baseball and hockey. Makes sense.)

"Quidditch?"

"It's the wizard sport," Peter interjected. "We'll explain it to you sometime. Maeve is on the team."

"Oh. Well, sure, if I'm any good, maybe I will try out for the team."

"Wonderful!" Professor Sprout patted Hex's shoulder again, sprinkling dirt on the parchment he'd unrolled for his essay. "Good luck, all of you! Now, I'll leave you to your work — you'll never catch up if you fall behind, you know," she said cheerfully, then moved on to another group of Hufflepuffs who were sitting near the fire.

"All right," Maeve said, opening her History of Magic text. "Let's get to work."

Hex dusted himself off and put on his earphones. He always worked better when there was music in the background. However, when he pressed the _Play_ button on his Walkman, all he heard was a loud screeching. He pulled the earphones off with a startled oath.

His friends looked at him, baffled. "What happened?"

"I don't know." When he tried his Walkman again, all he heard was the same screeching. "Something's wrong with my Walkman."

****

Concluding Remarks: Two chapters in one day?! What is this world coming to?! :D Well, the extra chapter comes because I will be on vacation for all of next week (Holy Week for Catholics – my longest holiday off work) and will be unable to attend to my **droves of readers** until after Easter :( 

But don't cry, I'll be back! And this entire fic has already been written, so the next installments are definitely coming! In the next chapter, Hex meets Maggie McGonagall, gets a taste of flying and quidditch, and has some fun with some **Hufflepuffs**. Watch for it! :D ~ Ara Kane


	6. Traveling By Air

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Introductory Remarks: Hey! I'm back! I spent a nice week in my grandmother's hometown, which is situated at the foot of an active volcano (it erupts every few years). I came home with a couple of secondhand books, some local delicacies for the people at the office and a piebald back (a.k.a. a _very_ uneven sunburn). But enough about me, on with the story!

****

Disclaimer: I own Hex, Maeve, Peter, and Norman. Maggie McGonagall, the Healer's Garden, Robert Padgett, Peggy Abbott, Wirtleweeds and Zippo the Fluffernutter are also mine. (And so is the cap hanging on the tree near Madam Hooch's practice field, but Hex can keep it.) The rest of the grounds, equipment and personnel belong to JK Rowling, except for the names "Coca-Cola" and "Coke," which belong to the Coca-Cola Company. (I love citing all my sources! :D)

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Additional Technical Notes: I have no idea if there is such a place called Hereford, and I also don't know whether they serve cold cereal at Hogwarts. All apologies to natives of Britain and the Hogwarts lunch lady.

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Traveling by Air

The first-year Hufflepuffs were filing off the practice field when Hex finally landed. 

Madam Hooch nodded approvingly at him while still keeping an eagle eye on the first years. "Are you sure you're not part bird, boy?"

"All human, as far as I know, ma'am," Hex replied, grinning broadly. He'd taken to the air like he had been born there. He was still a little nervous, especially after a couple of the others had fallen off their broomsticks, but the rush was greater than the fear.

"You move well."

"Thank you." He gave the still-bright sky a longing look. 

The gray-haired witch smiled. "I won't be needing that broomstick until tomorrow, Holmstrom. Why don't you take a few more turns while before it gets dark?"

Hex grinned. "Love ya, Madam Hooch." And he pushed off and was gone.

He took a few easy laps around the practice field, then tried zooming around on the broomstick, but it was an old one and not very fast. Nevertheless, it was still cool to fly around on a broomstick. Idly, Hex wondered if he could put a spell on a vacuum cleaner, so he could fly around on it when he came back to Brooklyn for the summer.

"Hi, Hex!"

Pulling to a stop, Hex looked over his shoulder to see Maeve coming up behind him on a broomstick that looked a lot better than the one he was on. Peter was nowhere in sight.

Hex grinned at her. "Hi, Maeve. This is quite a rush, huh?"

She hovered in midair beside him, cheeks flushed prettily. "Is this your first time on a broom?"

"Yeah."

"You move well for a first-timer. Will you try out for the quidditch team?"

"I haven't decided yet." He chuckled. "Maybe if I knew what quidditch _was_, I could make a decision."

Maeve giggled. "Come with me."

Hex followed her to a bigger field lined with bleachers and with three tall posts set in each end. She explained (swooping around on her broomstick when she wanted to make a point) that quidditch was a sport played by two teams with seven players on each side. A Keeper protected his team's goalposts, while three Chasers tried to score ten points by shooting a red ball (a Quaffle) through the hoops at the top of the posts. Two Beaters, armed with short clubs, tried to protect their Chasers by sending the black Bludgers to hit the opposing team. Finally, a Seeker could score one hundred and fifty points (and usually win the match for his team) by catching the Golden Snitch.

"So how about it?" she asked when she was done with her lecture, coming again to stop beside him. "Will you try out for the team?"

"Uh, yeah, if you want me to. I mean, it wouldn't hurt to try."

"Wonderful." Maeve smiled, pleased. 

"So…Peter said you play for the team."

She shrugged. "All the Houses have teams and I was the reserve Seeker for Hufflepuff. The starting Seeker, Cedric Diggory — well, he died last year."

"Ouch. I'm sorry to hear that." Hex cringed. "I mean, I'm glad you'll get to play now, but he didn't have to die so you could take his place…"

Maeve smiled rather wistfully. "Cedric was good. He actually got to beat Gryffindor once. I think I'm a pretty fair Seeker myself, but sometimes I wonder…"

"I'm sure you'll do great. You fly real well." He cleared his throat. "Not that I can tell, but…you look good flying. I mean—" Hex shook his head impatiently and changed the subject. "So, did your dad teach you to play quidditch?"

She shook her dark head. "I never knew my father."

"Neither did I."

Hex had no idea where Hereford was, but Professor McGonagall explained that he could get there through something called a Portkey, which would magically transport him to her sister's shop. The Portkey was a ratty old cap hanging on a tree branch near the practice field where Madam Hooch conducted her flying lessons. 

When Hex took hold of the Portkey that Saturday morning after breakfast, he was jerked forward into a dizzying blur of color. The next thing he knew, he was standing in the middle of a dim room, trying to still his reeling head. 

"On time, I see." A female voice said. "Good, good."

Maggie McGonagall strode forward, and as the single light bulb illuminated more of her, Hex was surprised to see how little she resembled her sister. Both were tall, but while Professor McGonagall was thin, her sister was plump; and instead of the Professor's tight black bun, Maggie's hair tumbled to her waist in wild red waves. 

Also, unlike her sister, Maggie was given to smiling. "Good morning, young man! Holmstrom, is it?" she inquired with a blinding, dimpled grin. "Welcome! I'm Maggie McGonagall, you may just call me Maggie, and I shall call you Hex. Have you eaten your breakfast?"

"Er, yes, ma'am," he stammered.

"There shan't be any of that 'ma'am' stuff around here," Maggie said firmly. "Didn't I just tell you to call me Maggie? Now come along, my lad, and I shall show you around."

The Healer's Garden was located on a busy street, with Muggles rushing back and forth, doing their shopping in the early morning daylight. Quite a few came in to look at and buy some of the herbal soaps, shampoos, teas and lotions Maggie offered for sale. Hex's job was to sweep up, make sure the displays were in order, get their lunch from a nearby pub and sometimes help with the customers. "How are you with numbers?" she demanded once she gave him his job description.

"Uh, fine," he managed to say. Math wasn't his best subject, but it wasn't his worst, either.

"Good! Now, you may begin by tidying up the back room. No magic!" she reminded him.

Hex found out that both the McGonagall sisters were harsh taskmasters. By lunchtime, he had cleared the back room, scoured the cauldrons Maggie used to prepare her wares, dusted all the shelves and balanced the books. He was dusty, sore and tired, but happy from his first drink of Coca-Cola in ages. "I have missed this stuff."

Maggie laughed. "One thing the magical world does not have is Coke. Slowly, my lad, or you'll get a stomachache. How was your first week at Hogwarts?"

"Fine."

"Minerva says you are in Hufflepuff House. Have you made any friends?"

He nodded. "Most of them think I'm weird, but I've got some people to hang around with."

"What classes are you taking?"

"Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, History of Magic, Astronomy, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy."

"Who is the Defense Against the Dark Arts master this year?"

Hex tried hard not to sound disgusted. "Snape." (A/N: Since DADA isn't much of an issue in this fic, I decided to grant Snape's wish and make him DADA Professor.)

"Snape! Well!" Maggie took a thoughtful sip of Coke. "He finally got his wish. How is he?"

He shrugged. "OK, I guess. He's teaching us about curses and how to block them. He's having a lot of fun cursing me." At their first lesson, Snape cursed Hex in several ways, and the boy left class with a sooty face, rubbery legs and a body covered in purple fur. Hermione had to give him a practical lesson on how to undo all the curses, and Malfoy had taunted him for the rest of the week. "He hates me."

"Snape hates everyone, my lad. He was always that way, even when we were in school."

"Believe me, you'd hate him more if he was your teacher."

Hermione was already in the library when Hex arrived after his first day at work. "Hi," he said, slipping into the free chair next to her. "I haven't kept you waiting, have I?" Right before he left, Maggie gave him a sealed envelope to give to Dumbledore. After dropping it off, Hex lost his way and needed directions from five different portraits before he found the library.

She looked up from her Arithmancy text and smiled at him. "Oh, no. I was just doing a little extra credit to pass the time."

There was a whole sheaf of pages covered with equations on the table in front of her. "A _little_ extra credit. I see. So, um, we were doing Charms, right?"

Before Hermione could answer, there was a familiar chorus of giggles. Sitting at a nearby table were a gaggle of girls including Parvati and Lavender, all trying to catch a glimpse of Hex. The group had been growing all week, much to the annoyance of Hermione and Madam Pince, the severe Hogwarts librarian and lover of silence and order.

Hex kicked himself at the disgruntled look on Hermione's face. "I really shouldn't have said anything about you helping me with lessons."

"I suppose you couldn't help yourself," she said in a clipped voice.

"Is something wrong?" he asked her quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his stalkers lean as close as discreetly possible, trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. "We don't have to do this anymore if it's taking too much of your time."

"I'm sorry," Hermione told him in a softer tone. "I've just had a bad day."

"Well, like I said, if you want to take a break, we can do this again some other time."

"No, today is fine." She managed a smile. "I don't want to stay in here, though, not with _them_ around." Hermione indicated the girls at the next table.

"Oh, well, why don't we go out to the field? So I can practice some spells or something?"

Hex's fans giggled even louder as they left the library, earning a loud shush from Madam Pince. 

"I'd say you're coming along quite well," Hermione said happily the next afternoon. They were out in the field again and she had just taught him how to perform a Cheering Charm.

"Are you sure that's not the charm talking?" Hex asked, grinning.

"If it is, it worked, didn't it?" They laughed. "That should be all for today."

"Yeah. I've got some homework to do." He felt something long and thin in his pocket. "Hey, you want one of these?" Hex held out one of the ballpoint pens that Maggie had given him that day. "I have some extra."

She smiled and took it. "Thank you. Quills can get tiresome, can't they?"

"You're telling me. I haven't learned how to use a quill without getting more ink on my fingers than in the pen."

Hermione laughed just as a tall figure appeared in the dimming daylight. "Are you quite done?" 

It was Ron, and he sounded annoyed. Hex wondered if the giggling figures behind him had anything to do with it. "Hey, Ron…Parvati, Lavender."

"It's getting dark," Ron said shortly, not bothering to return the other boy's greeting. "McGonagall sent me to find you. You've got your own work to do, you know."

"We were just finishing for the day," Hermione replied, still smiling from the Cheering Charm. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hex. Thank you for the pen."

"You're welcome. Want one, Ron?"

"No, thank you," Ron replied, turning to herd the three girls back to the Hogwarts castle. "You'd better watch those Muggle things of yours. If you're putting spells on them, I'll have to report you to my dad."

__

What's up with that guy? Hex wondered as he made his own way to the castle. He shrugged, finally deciding Ron probably just had a bad day. Or a headache — Parvati and Lavender could giggle you into one in no time.

Hex got up with the rest of his dormitory that Monday morning. "Looks like I'm getting used to getting up with the birds now," he noted to no one in particular. 

"Congratulations," Peter yawned, pushing his brown hair out of his eyes. 

Ernie MacMillan, one of the other occupants of the dormitory, watched Hex bound out of bed wearing little more than boxer shorts and socks. "Aren't you cold?"

He, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Robert Padgett were all giving him the "you're-weird" look again. Many things, including his strange speech and pierced eyebrow, had earned Hex this look many times already. "Begging your pardon, old boy, but my smoking jacket's in the wash," Hex told him in a bad imitation of Justin's upper-crust accent, picking his pants up off the floor and stepping into them.

That got him another you're-weird look.

Peter chuckled and finally got out of bed. "You're mental."

"That's for sure," Hex heard Robert mutter. 

Justin, Ernie and Robert were much friendlier as they greeted Maeve, who was waiting for her friends in the common room. She smiled at the boys, then turned her luminous eyes to Hex and Peter. "Look, quidditch trials are on this week." She pointed to a notice pinned to the wall beside the entrance. "Are you still going out for quidditch, Hex?"

Hex smiled. "I promised, didn't I? What about you, Pete? Are you trying out for quidditch?"

The big boy shook his head. "I'm not very interested in quidditch."

"Aw, why not? With your size, you should be good at it. I mean, I'm no expert, but—"

"I'm just not, that's all," Peter said in a firm but still pleasant tone.

"OK, whatever you say, man," Hex said quickly. He now knew for a fact that his friend wouldn't hurt a fly, but it was another fact that the other boy was even bigger than his last foster father was.

Maeve smiled up at him as the Hufflepuffs made their way to breakfast. "We must practice this week, Hex. I want you on that team!"

Behind Peter's broad back, Hex reddened and nodded. "I'm sure I can get a little less tutoring this week. Hermione said I'm almost all caught up. How about this afternoon, after classes?"

"Why are you whispering?"

Breakfast that morning included cold cereal and milk. "Hey, look!" Hex chortled, shaking round, golden-brown pellets, smelling of sugar and cinnamon, into a bowl. "Hufflepuffs!"

"Do they _really_ call them 'Hufflepuffs'?" Peter asked, peering at the cereal. All around them, other wizard-born students were eyeing it with similar confusion.

"No," the other boy laughed, adding milk to his bowl. "_Accio banana!_—Oh, crap," he said, wiping milk from his face and fishing the banana out of his cereal. "It's just that there's a lot of stuff like this for kids in the Muggle world, and they all have cutesy little names."

"Hufflepuff House is a distinguished house with a noble history!" Peggy Abbott, a rather pompous seventh-year who happened to be within earshot, protested shrilly. "I should report you for desecrating the house name that way!"

"Loosen up," Hex told her, slicing the peeled banana into his cereal. The girl sniffed in disgust and turned back to her own food. 

"Desecrate the name of Hufflepuff?" Malfoy drawled from behind Hex. Crabbe and Goyle were with him; and, judging from the number of Hufflepuffs wearing their cereal, it had been a busy morning. "Don't all you plonkers do that just by being alive?"

"And a jolly good morning to you, too, sweetheart," Hex said through gritted teeth.

The pale boy ignored him, focusing instead on Maeve and the bowl of cereal and bananas in front of her. "Maeve, you aren't going to eat that Muggle garbage, are you? Why not have some nice, _normal_ bacon and eggs instead?"

"_After_ my cereal," Maeve told him, her spoon gripped defiantly in one small fist. 

"But then, my dear, you'll get fat. And you have been looking rather hefty lately."

"Oh, shut up, you mother…bleeper," Hex snapped at Malfoy, managing at the last minute to curb his potty mouth. "She looks just fine the way she is."

The Slytherin looked down his aristocratic nose at him. "I believe I have known Maeve longer than you have, Yank Mudblood."

"Yeah, well, Pete and I know her _better_, Ferret-face," he said acidly.

Malfoy glared at him, then gave Crabbe the slightest of nods. 

Hex, however, was ready this time; and before Crabbe could upset his cereal bowl, the other boy had moved it out of range. "Missed me, missed me, now you've got to kiss me," he taunted.

Crabbe grunted angrily, and went for Maeve's bowl.

Fortunately, Peter had seen that coming and hauled Maeve out of harm's way. Her cereal ended up on the bench and all over the floor, instead of in her lap.

Even more fortunately, Professor McGonagall was passing by and saw everything. "Littering! Ten points from Slytherin!" she snapped, cleaning the mess up with her wand at the same time. 

They heard Malfoy scold his companion as they slunk back to the Slytherin table. "Never go after _her_, you dolt!" 

"It served them right," Harry said later that morning in Herbology. Even Ron, who had been a bit unfriendly as of late, smiled at the news of Malfoy's morning. "It's about time someone caught them at it. They've been spilling food on people for years."

"And no one's ever tried to stop them?" Hex asked over the Wirtleweeds they were pruning. 

"No one's succeeded," Hermione said. "The last one to try got a black eye and detention for a week," she added, looking sideways at Ron.

"At least I _tried_," the redheaded boy said shortly, snapping a dead leaf off his Wirtleweed. "_Some people_ just sat back and tried to make a fashion statement."

"Snape was the one who found us! I couldn't very well fight back with _him_ around, could I? Besides, fighting is against the rules."

Peter looked uneasily at the pair, cleared his throat and changed the subject. "So, quidditch trials are on this week."

Maeve nodded as she plucked off some wilted Wirtleweed flowers. "Any idea who might be the new Gryffindor Keeper, Harry?"

Harry smiled. "Now, why should I be telling you?"

"Because I asked," she replied innocently.

"Come on, now, Maeve, you'll find out along with all the other Houses at our first match." The other boy turned his green gaze to Hex. "Will you be going out for quidditch this year, Hex?"

"Now, Harry, why should he be telling you?" Maeve said crisply before Hex could answer.

Ron laughed loudly. "That's telling him, Maeve." 

Hermione glared at him.

"It looks like you are, then," Harry observed with a smile, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead.

"Well, I'm only going to try out," Hex said. "It sounds like fun—hey, what's that on your head?" On Harry's forehead was a thin scar shaped like a bolt of lightning. "That is one mother of a scar, man. I've got one, too — look at this —"

Hermione gaped as Hex pulled back one sleeve to show the jagged scar that ran up his forearm. Almost all the people at his table looked at him as if he were insane. "What?" he asked. "I fell on some broken glass when I was a kid. It wasn't life-threatening or anything."

Harry smiled, amused. "Cool. It's nice to know I'm not the only person with a scar in the world."

After a nice mid-afternoon nap — otherwise known as Professor Binns' History of Magic class — the rested and refreshed fifth year Hufflepuffs made their way to Hagrid's hut for a double Care of Magical Creatures lesson with the Ravenclaws. They were presently learning to care for baby Fluffernutters, little balls of white fur with fluffy tails. These creatures would grow up to resemble white saber-tooth tigers, but as babies they were so delicate that very few survived infancy. Two had already died and they were barely two months into the term.

Fortunately for Peter, Maeve and Hex, Zippo, their baby Fluffernutter, was holding on. "How's the little critter doin'?" Hagrid asked as they fed Zippo with a sponge soaked in milk.

"Surviving," Peter replied, beaming.

"Looks like a strong 'un," the huge man said, nodding his approval. "I think he'll be one of the few to make it. Yeh have a way wi' animals, Peter."

Peter grinned proudly. "Thank you." Thanks to his knack with animals, they could pass the lesson with full marks.

"An' how are yeh, son?" Hagrid then asked Hex. "Catchin' up?"

"Yeah."

"I heard Hermione Granger's helpin' yeh."

"Yeah."

"Good. Yeh should get caught up in no time."

"He's practically even with us already," Maeve said, smiling.

Hagrid nodded approvingly. "Good ter hear it. Yer friend Tiny should also be glad ter know yer doin' well here in Hogwarts."

"Could I send him an owl?" Hex asked. "Can an owl fly all the way to Brooklyn?"

"I'll try an' find one for yeh. Be sure ter tell him yer big with the lasses," Hagrid added slyly, just as Padma Patil walked by with a smile for Hex. He chuckled as Hex blushed. "I'm jus' teasin' yeh, son. Back to work, now."

Maeve turned back to Zippo just as Padma stepped right into a mud puddle that hadn't been there before. "He's such a sweet baby," she cooed, oblivious to Padma's shrieks of dismay. 

That afternoon, Hex met Maeve on the quidditch pitch so he could practice for the tryouts. She smiled, took the school broomstick Madam Hooch had lent him, and held out her Nimbus Two Thousand. It made the one he borrowed look like a pile of dirt. "I couldn't."

"Go on." She thrust the Nimbus into his arms and mounted the school broom. "How will I know if you're any good if you aren't riding a proper broomstick?" she called down to him as she rose several feet in the air. "Come on up!"

Shaking his head, Hex mounted the broomstick and followed her. 

Maeve was carrying a red ball she had taken from a crate on the ground. "This is the Quaffle," she said, throwing it to him. "Why don't you try to shoot it through the hoops?"

"OK." He managed to score a few times even as she tried to block his shots.

"That was very good," she praised when they were back on the ground and the Quaffle was back in the crate. 

"Well, you were on the old broomstick," Hex said modestly.

"Perhaps." Maeve then handed him a short club. "Now, are you ready for a Bludger?"

"Why do I have to be ready for a—_holy shit!!!_" Hex ducked as a black bowling ball rocketed toward him. He jumped out of the way, but it ricocheted off a nearby goalpost and hurtled toward Maeve. _"Watch out!"_

He positioned himself in front of her and whaled at the Bludger with his club, sending it clear through the goal post on the other end of the field. "How do you stop this thing?" he panted as the ball made a U-turn and went for them yet again.

"We have to put it back in the box," she said, watching as the Bludger drew nearer.

"Oh, boy." Hex wrapped his arms around the ball as it rushed past him and wrestled it back down to the ground even as it struggled to free itself. _"OW! Open the box, quick!"_

Maeve helped him strap the Bludger back into the box and rewarded him with a sunny smile. "I believe you could make a very good Beater."

He rubbed his arms and glared at the ball straining against its bonds. "That thing nearly broke you in half!"

"Nonsense," she said blithely. "Now, do you care to see the Golden Snitch?"

"If it's anything like that Bludger, forget it."

She laughed, a silvery, bell-like sound. "It's too small to hurt you, unless you choke on it." She took a tiny golden ball out of the crate. It lay in her small palm for a while before spreading silvery wings and flying out of sight. "That was the Golden Snitch."

"And you have to look for that?" Hex squinted into the skies for a flash of gold.

"Yes. Would you like to try?"

"I would, but I can't see it."

"It's right over there." Riding the school broomstick, she flew toward the Snitch. She would have caught it, too, if someone riding by hadn't taken it first.

"Well, well, well." The lazy drawl grated on Hex's nerves like a thousand nails scratching down a chalkboard. "Is he supposed to be Hufflepuff's secret weapon, Maeve, or is this a _date_?"

"Get lost, Malfoy," Hex snapped as he flew up to join them.

Malfoy eyed the Nimbus Two Thousand derisively. "My goodness, Maeve, are you lending this Yank Mudblood your broomstick? Couldn't you find a boyfriend with his _own_?"

The other boy arched his pierced eyebrow at Malfoy's Nimbus Two Thousand and One. "Maybe some of us are OK with using a school broomstick because _we aren't lacking in other areas_."

Malfoy flushed pink. "It looks like I still haven't taken care of that mouth of yours."

"Looks like it," he replied flippantly.

"No good will come to people like you," Malfoy said darkly. "A Yank, a Mudblood, an insolent—"

"Draco, will you shut up for a moment and give me the Snitch?" Maeve asked. A tart note had crept into her voice. "I need to put it back in the crate with the others."

The pale boy frowned slightly at her. "You are starting to sound like this Mudblood, Maeve. It isn't becoming of a lady."

She held out a hand, her face impassive. "Give me the Snitch."

Malfoy smiled maliciously and did as she asked, using it as an excuse to stroke her hand. "The only way you will catch the Snitch, my dear, is if someone handed it to you."

"Drop dead, Ferret-face," Hex snarled as the other boy finally went away, his cold laughter trailing after him. "Moron," he muttered, landing on the grass beside Maeve. "Are you OK?"

Head still bent over the box, she nodded.

"Don't pay any attention to him, Maeve." He patted her shoulder awkwardly. "He's a jerk."

"I know," she said softly.

"What is it with you and him, anyway? He acts like he owns you."

Maeve shut the crate and smiled bravely up at him. "He doesn't own me. I suppose he just thinks he does because we grew up together. My mother…well, I don't know how she knew the Malfoys; but, before she died, she asked Lucius Malfoy to raise me."

"So you're like a foster kid."

"I am Lucius Malfoy's ward, yes." They heard a rough purr as Norman appeared and began to weave about their ankles. She bent down and scooped up the cat, scratching him behind his single ear.

"D'you remember your mother?"

She shook her head. "She died when I was born. All I have of her is the name she gave me."

Hex looked closely at her. "I hope the Malfoys are treating you right." If they weren't, he was going to beat the crap out of Ferret-face and report his family to Wizard Social Services — there had to be such a thing, right?

"In all fairness, I grew up in Malfoy Manor with the same privileges as Draco did. But I am nothing like them," she added in a hard voice. 

He supposed that was why most of the people in Hufflepuff House didn't even want to sit next to her. Hex had heard people talking and somehow the Malfoys were always being linked to that Voldemort guy. He put an arm around Maeve's shoulders and squeezed. "I never said you were."

****

Concluding Remarks: Whoopee! Sentimental moment! :D Yeah, I know that Maeve's relationship with the Malfoys somehow makes her a Mary Sue, but believe me, she's going to try and fight that tendency all through this fic! Up next: a bit of idiocy involving pumpkins and Hex goes into business. In the meantime, please read and review! ~ Ara Kane


	7. Tycoon

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Disclaimer: I own Hex, Maeve, and Peter, as well as Peggy and Robert. Tiny is also mine, as are Maggie McGonagall and the Healer's Garden, and so is Hank, although Hank is a useless sack of crap. I suppose Nymph Grass is also mine. JK Rowling owns Hogwarts, the rest of its inhabitants, and Mr. Weasley from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. (I love him and thought he should be in my fic :D) The names "Walkman" and "Nintendo Game Boy" belong to their respective manufacturers, and the Black Eyed Peas belong to themselves.

****

Introductory Remarks: Well, here it is, Chapter 7…in it, Hex starts to stir Hufflepuffs up. There is also quite a bit about study groups. I love study groups. :D ~ Ara Kane

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Tycoon

There were gigantic golden pumpkins sitting on the greenhouse tables in Herbology that morning.

"Er, these aren't plants anymore," Harry observed, prodding at the one in front of him. Everyone was looking blankly at the pumpkins and giving Professor Sprout odd looks.

The teacher beamed. "We have a different sort of activity this morning, class. In honor of Halloween, we will use this lesson to carve our own jack o'lanterns!"

Hex chuckled, noticing the large spoon and carving knife set neatly beside each pumpkin. "Oh, boy. I haven't made one of these in ages." Actually, he had only made one or two in his entire lifetime.

"We made some every year before we all went away to school," Ron said.

"So is Halloween like the wizard Christmas?"

Hermione laughed. "Of course not. The magical world still celebrates Christmas, but it's only natural that Halloween be a major holiday, too."

"What about Thanksgiving?"

Ron gave him one of Ernie's you're-weird looks. "You're in England now, mate."

"I expect American wizards celebrate Thanksgiving, too," Hermione said soothingly, glaring at Ron. Caught in between the two, Harry sighed and rolled his eyes.

Following Professor Sprout's example, the class cut off the tops of their pumpkins and scooped out the seeds and flesh into a tray. Maeve giggled as Seamus Finnigan pretended to have pumpkin guts spilling out of him. "Now, now," the Herbology professor admonished him, "back to work."

"She's too nice," Hex murmured. "If that was Snape, he'd have taken fifty points off Gryffindor."

"D'you want Sprout to take points off Gryffindor?" Ron demanded.

The other boy frowned. "Of course not. I was just making an observation."

"Well, you make sure they're just observations, then," Ron snapped, turning his attention back to his pumpkin. Hex looked at the other Gryffindors in confusion. _What is up with this guy?_ Both Harry and Hermione looked every bit as baffled as he.

After making sure everyone had a neat pumpkin shell (and bandaging Neville Longbottom's cut finger), Professor Sprout instructed her class to "let your imaginations go wild" and carve their pumpkins.

Hex watched Peter begin to carve an incredibly detailed snarling visage into his pumpkin. "That's real good. What's it supposed to be?"

The big boy shrugged, still focused on his handiwork. "Just a face."

"Cool. If I tried doing that with mine, it'll end up looking like Quasimodo." He pulled a face at everyone, making Maeve and Hermione giggle. Ron frowned and muttered darkly at his pumpkin.

Many of the others were making standard-looking jack o'lanterns with toothy smiles. Instead of using the knife, Hermione was using a Severing Charm on her pumpkin. Dean Thomas was carving a Gryffindor lion's head. Hex sighed and watched his friends work before inspiration struck. "A-ha."

Chuckling to himself, he carved his pumpkin (the usual way) and added features with bits of dried black Wirtleweed from the compost heap. Hex twisted a particularly long stalk to resemble glasses, attached this to his pumpkin and carved in the final touch with a flourish. "Hey, Harry," he said, turning the pumpkin around. "Check it out. It's your long-lost twin."

The stunt earned Hex a laugh from the class, admiring coos from Parvati and Lavender, and twenty points for Hufflepuff. Professor Sprout was still gushing about his "show of creativity" that night after dinner, as she distributed toasted pumpkinseeds to the Hufflepuffs. "You must do one of Professor Dumbledore for Halloween," she giggled.

"I'll need a lot of grass," he said. (A/N: No pot humor intended! I just want to make that clear, even though this is a PG-13 fic!)

Professor Sprout laughed heartily. "I'll make sure you get all you need, my boy. Now, back to work!"

Peter grinned as the teacher left. "Why don't you do one of Professor Snape?"

"Then you'll see my _head_ hanging in the Great Hall," Hex said as they searched for a free spot in the common room. "Hey, mind if we join you?" he asked the other fifth year Hufflepuffs, who were sitting at a table with their homework and a bowl of pumpkinseeds.

"Go right ahead. The seats are free," Justin said in a friendly voice, coloring as Maeve smiled and sat down beside him. There were welcoming smiles on some of the others' faces as well. Hex supposed the pumpkin incident kind of convinced them that he was an OK guy.

"Are you doing the Potions homework?" Susan Bones, Maeve's Potions partner, asked them. "We're having a little trouble figuring it out." 

"Perhaps we can all work on it together," Peter suggested quietly, "since we're taking the same class."

"Great idea, Pete," Hex said. It was good to see the normally shy boy trying to relate to other people. "How about it, you guys? We might just work better if we put our heads together."

Ernie, Robert and Hannah still looked doubtful, but decided to bite. "Why not?"

Sure enough, by working together, they were done in no time. "I didn't know you were good at Potions, Hex," Justin observed in admiration. 

The other boy shrugged and smiled modestly. "Snape hates me, but he can't fail me."

"Can't he?" Ernie asked. "He's a teacher. He can do whatever he wants."

"No, he can't. He can take points off or kick you out for bad behavior; but if he fails you just because he doesn't like you, even if you aced the test, he's being unprofessional and you can protest."

The wizard-born Hufflepuffs in the group looked scandalized. "We should report you for inciting us to rebellion," Hannah said.

Hex chuckled. "You sound just like your sister. Look, all I'm saying is we have rights as students and we can go tell Dumbledore if these are being violated. He'll understand and he can help. That's his job."

Ernie's normally ruddy face was pale. "I can't listen to any more of this. Excuse me, I think I'll go to bed," he said, gathering up his things and going up to the boys' dormitory. Robert and Hannah weren't too far behind. 

Susan smiled and shook her head as she gathered up her things. "You Americans are strange." 

Hex burst out laughing. "Thank you." He took his Walkman from his bag and proceeded to take it apart with the tool kit he had brought with him from Brooklyn.

"What are you doing?" Maeve asked, peering over his shoulder. She smelled like baby powder.

"Fixing this thing. I think I must have dropped it or something, it's not working properly."

Despite Hex's controversial stand on Snape's professional behavior, their little study group came together again the next afternoon to work on Professor McGonagall's essay ("Present a well-known case of transfiguration gone wrong. Explain the mistake/s made and how these could have been corrected."), and practice the charms for Professor Flitwick's test the next day.

"Studying together really does help, doesn't it?" Maeve asked. She looked pleased as her charmed quill wrote down everything she had said.

"It sure does," Justin said. The quill wrote his words down, too. "I got my first good mark from Snape today. Father will be ever so pleased."

"If we do well enough, we could be in the running for the House Cup," Susan said.

"We'll never be in the running for the House Cup," Ernie said glumly. "Hufflepuff has been in last place for centuries."

Hex waved his wand and the black-and-yellow-striped Hufflepuff scarf on the table folded itself neatly. "You know, Ernie, when you believe too much in things like that, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Haven't you heard of the old saying, _'It ain't over 'til it's over'_?"

"I'm only stating a fact. Hufflepuff House has been in last place for centuries. Nothing special ever happens to us, except for last year when Cedric Diggory made the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"And two years ago, when Cedric beat Gryffindor at quidditch," Hannah said.

"Cedric Diggory's only one guy. Think of the things we can all do." Hex waved his wand again, causing a bowlful of leftover pumpkinseeds to remove their own shells. 

Again, it was only a matter of time before Ernie and his friends fled, accusing Hex of trying to corrupt them. "Man, those guys are paranoid," Hex observed, helping himself to some pumpkinseeds.

"A lot of bad things are happening in the magical world," Justin said, shaking his curly head. "When you're afraid, you tend to cling to familiar things."

"Well, when you do nothing, nothing happens. Hey, check this out." The other boy took his Walkman from his bag and handed it to Maeve. "I fixed it."

Justin gaped as Hex fitted the earphones to Maeve's ears and played some music for her. "Does it really work?"

"Sure. Hear for yourself."

Justin's eyes widened as he tried the Walkman for himself. "This is brilliant! How did you do it?"

"I fixed it."

"But Muggle electronics can't run in Hogwarts!"

Hex shrugged when the other boy finally handed over his Walkman. "They can now." (A/N: Don't have a hissy fit just yet! The canon basis for this comes up in the next chapter!)

Justin grinned. "Listen, if I ask Mother to send me my stereo, can you fix it so it'll work here? I can pay you fifteen Sickles for the job."

"I can try, but if I break it, I'm not liable, all right?"

The other boy held out a hand for Hex to shake. "Done."

By the next weekend, there was music in the Hufflepuff common room (at least when Professor Sprout wasn't in it) and Hex was fifteen Sickles richer. The word soon spread among the Muggle-born Hufflepuffs that the American fifth year could fix just about anything and Hex's underground electronics repair business was born. He found himself repairing more stereos, electric shavers, and even a Nintendo Game Boy. 

Hex also ran a side business supplying batteries to those who forgot to send home for their own. These he purchased during his weekends in Hereford.

"It's about _time_ you came back!" Maggie exclaimed when Hex finally returned to The Healer's Garden with their lunch that Saturday. "I am _famished_!"

"Sorry," Hex said sheepishly, setting the take-out bag on the counter. "I needed more batteries."

She looked up from the package of sausage rolls she was unwrapping. "Business going well?" Maggie caught on after only a few of these mysterious errands and was sworn to secrecy so Professor McGonagall wouldn't find out.

He grinned. "It's going great. I hope to have enough for a halfway decent broomstick before the first quidditch match."

"Ah!" Maggie beamed. "You made Beater after all?"

"Yeah. I'm not too happy dealing with those Bludgers, but I haven't been hit by one yet."

"And has your schoolwork suffered from all your new activities?" his boss asked him sternly, looking and sounding a lot like her sister.

"Uh, I don't think so," Hex said. "Us fifth years have something like a study group, so we do our homework together; and I finish the repair jobs on my own time."

"Good. I hope you remember that you are at Hogwarts to study above all else."

"Don't worry. I don't want to go back to Brooklyn."

"And we'll try our best to make sure you don't go back," she told him firmly, then went back to the sausage rolls. "Now, let's eat. I need help with the new batch of soap and the Halloween display, and I've got something you must deliver to Professor Dumbledore."

The school went down to breakfast on a crisp and cool Halloween morning to find the Great Hall already decorated for that night's feast. Silvery cobwebs trailed gossamer streamers from the rafters, and the student-made jack o'lanterns hung overhead, waiting to be lit. Directly above the teachers' table was the jack o'lantern Hex had made to look like Professor Dumbledore, with its masses of hair made from dried Nymph Grass supplied by Professor Sprout. "What's that?" Malfoy asked loudly as he and the other Slytherins entered the hall. "A ball of hair?"

"_That_, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Sprout said in an uncharacteristically icy voice, "is a jack o'lantern made by one of your fellow students. Five points from Slytherin." As she passed by the Hufflepuff table, she rewarded Hex with a giggle. "The resemblance is uncanny, my boy!"

"_You_ did that?" Malfoy scoffed as he sat down at the Slytherin table. "It looks like something that creature of yours coughed up."

"And here I was worrying it didn't look enough like you," Hex drawled, helping himself to some toast. All the Hufflepuffs within earshot laughed as the pale Slytherin glowered and turned away. 

"Did you see _Sprout_ take points off _Slytherin_?" a sixth-year said. "It's about time she started asserting herself."

"And it's all thanks to Hex and his magic jack o'lantern," Justin teased as he joined them. He'd brought his stereo down from the common room. "Anyone fancy a bit of music while we dine?"

"Is it all right to be playing that in _here_?" a second year asked dubiously.

"It won't hurt anyone," Justin assured her. "Besides, it's advertising for Hex."

"Thanks, man," Hex said humbly. "I'm touched."

The other boy grinned, cranked up the volume, and in a short while the phat beats of the Black Eyed Peas were attracting attention from all the other tables in the Great Hall. "Rapid!" a first year Ravenclaw said as he passed. "I can't get mine to work. How does yours run?"

"Hex here fixed it," Justin said. "Fifteen Sickles and he can sell you batteries, too."

"He fixed my Game Boy," a first year Hufflepuff ventured in an effort to help Justin's sales pitch.

Beside him, Peter chuckled and Hex could feel his cheeks begin to warm. It was embarrassing, but worth it because as the owls came in that morning with the mail, quite a few students from Ravenclaw and Gryffindor were writing home for their own things. (A/N: Of course, Slytherin students are all purebloods and have no use for Muggle filth.) "You're going into service for money?" Malfoy sniffed. "How vulgar."

"Shut up, Ferret-face." Hex jumped as a Great Grey owl swooped down and dropped an envelope onto his plate. "Hey, I have a letter!"

"Who sent it?" Maeve asked curiously.

He slit open his envelope and unfolded the paper inside. "It's from Tiny, my boss back home."

Dear Hex,

What's with the new name? Is it some wizard code name or something? 

I checked the Internet after you were gone and there is absolutely nothing about Hogwarts on it. It's like the place doesn't exist. But I guess it does, if you're writing me from there and got an owl to deliver it.

Hope they're treating you right over there. After you left, one of the neighbors called the cops and Hank was arrested. About time, I say. When people ask me where you'd gone, I tell them you went to a group home. (School is kind of like the same thing, isn't it?) Seems to satisfy all the gossips.

It was good to hear from you. Take care and let me know how things turn out for you at school. I don't know how this is going to get to you — guess I'll leave it in a dish of birdseed and hope an owl finds it.

Tiny

Just as Hex was finishing Tiny's letter, Maeve poked him in the ribs. "Look, the Gryffindor quidditch team is back from practice," she whispered. 

They watched as a group of flushed Gryffindors in scarlet quidditch robes entered the Great Hall for breakfast. "Ron Weasley and Dean Thomas are on the team," Maeve observed. "I wonder who's the new Keeper?"

Harry took a seat right under his lookalike jack o'lantern, sharing a laugh over it with Hermione and the Weasley twins. Ron, on the other hand, was staring at the stereo blaring away on the Hufflepuff table, a most unreadable look on his face.

Everyone came back down to the Great Hall that evening for the Halloween banquet. "Whoa, this is off the hook," Hex said, looking around. 

If the Great Hall looked cool in the morning, it was something else that night. The jack o'lanterns, finally lit, shed eerie, flickering light that glinted off the cobwebs and the golden plates waiting to be filled. Hordes of real live bats could be heard up in the rafters, hidden by the darkness of the bewitched ceiling.

"Nice, isn't it?" Maeve asked. "Just wait until Christmas. The decorations are twice as beautiful then."

"And twice as hard to clean up," a voice snarled behind them. Argus Filch, the Hogwarts caretaker, was walking by, accompanied by Mrs. Norris, a cat that hated students as much as he did. Both were glaring at the cobwebs hanging from the beams. "Cobwebs…bat droppings…rotting pumpkins…disgusting!"

Hex traded wry looks with his friends as they took their places at the Hufflepuff table. "Someone's not getting into the Halloween spirit."

"Mr. Filch doesn't like any holiday," Maeve said.

"Filch doesn't like _anything_," Peter added, "except maybe that cat of his."

"He's got to be the only one," Hex said, glaring at the dust-colored furball. 

The school feasted on roast beef, ham, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, pumpkin pies the size of cartwheels, loads of gravy, and other good things. Afterward, the ghosts provided a spot of entertainment. Nearly Headless Nick and the Bloody Baron engaged in a thrilling fencing duel, with Nick fighting bravely and winning even though his head swung off his neck halfway through the match. The Fat Friar sang a lovely duet with one of the female ghosts, and Peeves the Poltergeist even behaved himself long enough to sing a rude ditty or two before he started throwing things and Nick and the Baron had to drag him, cursing, from the Hall.

Hex laughed along with everyone else; and like everyone else, he fell silent as the doors to the Great Hall opened and an adult wizard strode in. 

Hex had never seen him before. The newcomer was thin and balding, and his robes were rather shabby, but the look on his face was deadly. 

By now, Dumbledore had stood up. "Arthur," he addressed the wizard. "What brings you here?"

"Ministry business, Professor Dumbledore," Arthur replied. "I won't take up too much time. If you will excuse me…" He made his way to the Hufflepuff table. "Which one of you is Hex Holmstrom?"

Hex's insides went cold and the entire Hufflepuff table gasped. He had no idea what he had done and wished he could hide, but everyone's eyes were on him, giving him away.

There was nothing else he could do. Ignoring Maeve's tug on his sleeve, he stood. "I am."

The wizard walked over to him and took his arm. "Arthur Weasley, from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. I need to take you in."

****

Concluding Remarks: Oooh! Cliffie! Look out for the rabid mob! (No, really, there will be a rabid mob coming… :D) ~ Ara Kane


	8. Scenes From A Bad Cop Show

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Disclaimer: I own Hex, Maeve, Peter, Norman, Rowan, Robert, Peggy, and Maggie McGonagall. (That was a mouthful! :D) I suppose I also made up the Soldering Charm. Hogwarts and Mr. Weasley belongs to JK Rowling. (But I made up Professor Sprout's first name.) The "bad boys, bad boys" and "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" songs also don't belong to me, and the Beastie Boys own themselves. 

The food-dumping scene was inspired by an obscure '80s teen movie (whose title eludes me at the moment) featurring Clayton Rohner, Billy Jacoby, Sherilyn Fenn, and the Owen Hart lookalike who also played the bad guy from _The Karate Kid_. (Cheesy teen movies are one of my guilty pleasures. :D) 

****

Additional Technical Notes: I have no experience with electronics repair, so pardon me if I touched only lightly on the topic and was inaccurate in my treatment thereof. I would also like to state for the record that this chapter does not in any way imply that the TV show featuring the "bad boys, bad boys" song is a "bad cop show." The phrase pertains more to Hex's situation than to the TV show.

****

Introductory Remarks: Welcome to the new reviewers! I'm so glad you like Hex. I love him, too. I was planning to leave all you guys hanging on his arrest while I'm in Europe with my grandmother, but as a token of appreciation, here are a few more chapters. I will be gone until May 4th, tho, so further updates will have to wait until after that :( …but like I said, this entire fic has been written so yes, the ending exists! Thank you all so much again! :D ~ Ara Kane

__

Scenes from a Bad Cop Show

"What?" Hex blurted out. What laws had he broken? The Great Hall began to buzz as people began to whisper and point at him. 

"No!" he heard Maeve cry.

At the next table, Draco Malfoy laughed coldly. "Get him, Mr. Weasley!"

__

"SHUT UP, MALFOY!" the Hufflepuffs chorused.

By now, Professors Sprout and Dumbledore had joined the scene. "This is all a big mistake!" Professor Sprout exclaimed, looking like a flustered gray hen. "Look at him! The boy doesn't know even know what he's done!"

Dumbledore raised a hand for silence. "Calm down, Zinnia. We will all go to my office and sort this out. Carry on," he told the room at large. "We will be back shortly."

But everyone continued to watch in stunned silence as Hex was marched down the length of the Great Hall, flanked by Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley, Professor Sprout bringing up the rear. He felt like he was in a bad cop show. What had he done? _Bad boys, bad boys, what'cha gonna do…_

As he walked down the corridor toward the Headmaster's office, the Fat Friar glided into view. "Confess, my son," he intoned. "The truth will set you free."

Dread settled heavily in Hex's stomach as the statue of the gargoyle jumped aside, admitting the group into Dumbledore's office. "Now," the headmaster said quietly. "What is this about?"

"I received information from my son Ronald that magic was being worked on Muggle items here at Hogwarts," Mr. Weasley announced. 

"Zinnia, please bring Ronald Weasley here," Dumbledore told Professor Sprout.

The witch fixed Mr. Weasley with a steely glare. "You will not touch the boy while I am gone."

Mr. Weasley had the decency to blush. "I only intend to question him at this point, Professor; we will discuss punishment only if he is proven guilty."

Professor Sprout glared at him one more time before finally bustling from the office. She returned shortly with Ron in tow. Hex looked at his friend, wondering what he was up to. Ron had a strange glitter in his eyes.

"Now, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said to Ron, "would you care to tell us the whole story?"

The other boy opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, a commotion was heard outside Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster frowned slightly and waved his wand, opening the door. 

Hex watched frozen as a group of Hufflepuffs, led by Maeve and Peter, marched inside, most of them carrying the stereos and electric shavers he had repaired. "If you please, Professor Dumbledore," Maeve said in a tone that was barely polite, "we've figured out what this is all about."

"Miss Moondaughter!" Professor Sprout admonished, scandalized. "We do not use that tone of voice with school —"

She turned pink and took a deep, calming breath. "I beg your pardon," she said in a more controlled voice, "but if this is about the Muggle things working in Hogwarts, it's true that Hex fixed Justin's stereo. He's been fixing things for many Hufflepuffs. He's saving up for a broomstick so he can play on the house team." Maeve's golden eyes were close to spitting sparks when she stared Ron down. "But he didn't use any magic. I saw him fix those things with only his hands. And they're all doing what they're supposed to…_nothing more_." She nodded imperiously to Justin. "Show them."

The curly-haired boy gravely popped a CD into his stereo, pressed _Play_, and the Beastie Boys' voices filled the room. "Amazing!" Mr. Weasley said, an almost comical look of wonder on his face. "But Muggle eckeltronics aren't supposed to work in Hogwarts!"

"They are not _supposed to_," Dumbledore pointed out, his eyes twinkling, "but it remains possible that they _can_. Apparently, Mr. Holmstrom has found a way to get them to work. Mr. Finch-Fletchley, if you will allow Mr. Weasley to check your stereo for any enchantments…" (A/N: My canon basis for this whole electronics thing is found on page 548 of _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_. Read it _carefully_!)

"He won't find any," Peter ventured as a delighted Mr. Weasley pounced on the stereo. "Hex couldn't do any magic when he first came to Hogwarts. Hermione Granger's helping him catch up…" His voice trailed off as he realized everyone was listening to him.

"I am aware of that, Mr. Brandegoris," Dumbledore said. "And we will determine whether Mr. Holmstrom is all caught up when we administer his equivalency exams during the Christmas holiday. But perhaps Mr. Holmstrom did a bit of 'independent research'…"

Hex shook his head, finally shocked into action. "I used to work at a repair shop, so I know how to fix things and stuff like that," he said. "I thought my Walkman was broken, but it wasn't. Still, I made some adjustments to it. I may have used a Soldering Charm sometimes," he admitted, "but that's about it."

"There are no spells on this stereo," Mr. Weasley announced, looking almost sorry that he couldn't play with it any further. 

More composed now at the proof of Hex's innocence, Maeve smiled and nodded to the first year owner of the Game Boy. "Why don't you show Mr. Weasley your game, Rowan?"

Blushing and nodding, Rowan handed over his Game Boy, which sent Mr. Weasley into raptures. "Can you detect any spells, Arthur?" Dumbledore asked.

"None that I can see," Mr. Weasley replied absently, absorbed in the Super Mario Brothers. "But I may need some time to inspect the evidence more closely…"

"I believe we will trust your judgement. And I believe it is settled that Mr. Holmstrom is not guilty." The headmaster beamed as the Hufflepuffs whooped and patted Hex's back. 

Professor Sprout puffed up indignantly. "I knew the boy was innocent all along!"

"Now, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore addressed Ron gravely, "it is a serious matter when one student accuses another of illegal activities."

The room fell silent. Even Mr. Weasley managed to tear his eyes away from the Game Boy and look at his son, whose face still had to decide whether it was going to turn red or white. "Professor Dumbledore is right, Ron," he said.

"Don't hit him," Hex blurted out. When Mr. Weasley looked at him as if he were insane, he turned red. "I mean, it's OK. I didn't do anything wrong, but… anyway, he did the right thing in telling you. I should have done that — asked permission or something."

"That is very magnanimous of you, Mr. Holmstrom," Dumbledore said, as Ron's face finally opted to turn crimson. "Now, Mr. Weasley, no points will be deducted from Gryffindor. However, I believe a detention is only appropriate in this case, is it not?"

To his credit, Ron took it like a man. Blushing again, he squared his shoulders and nodded. He and his father left the office, with Maeve looking daggers after him.

Dumbledore surveyed the group of Hufflepuffs before him with quiet amusement. "You handled this matter very well, Mr. Holmstrom."

Hex shrugged. "Ron wouldn't pull a stunt like that if he didn't think something was really wrong."

"Nevertheless, you showed true loyalty in thinking of him as a friend first and foremost. Take ten points for Hufflepuff." The headmaster smiled. "And I believe two points should go to each of your supporters for showing loyalty as well. I wouldn't have expected anything less from the Hufflepuffs."

"Damn straight," Maeve said. Her eyes widened when she realized what she had said in front of two teachers, and she giggled. 

Dumbledore nodded to Professor Sprout, who hustled the mob from the office, leaving Hex and the headmaster alone. "Now, Mr. Holmstrom, I will allow you to carry on with your activities, as I expect the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors would also like to avail of your services."

"Thank you, sir," he said.

"But I would like to ask you not to fix any calculators or computers, things that may give students an undue advantage over their classmates. Please stick to items for recreation."

"Yes, sir."

"And telephones and televisions will _never_ pick up proper signals here in Hogwarts, so I advise you not to try and fix those as well."

"Yes, sir. I kind of knew that because we could never get a good radio signal on anyone's stereo."

"And I hope this won't interfere with your schoolwork…?"

"No, sir. I promised Maggie — Miss McGonagall — it wouldn't."

Dumbledore nodded, smiling. "Very good. I see the McGonagall sisters are alike when it most matters. That will be all, Mr. Holmstrom. You may return to your dormitory."

The next morning, many were surprised to see Hex come down for breakfast with the rest of the Hufflepuffs. "I suppose they were expecting you to get carted off to Azkaban," Maeve laughed.

"I hate to disappoint them," Hex replied, grinning and bowing to the entire Hall before sitting down, "but I'm still a free man."

All of Hufflepuff House sat together, talking and laughing amiably over breakfast. The previous night, Hex had returned to the dormitory and was greeted by a rousing cheer. Everyone had stayed up to show support for the guy who won the house twenty-six points by getting himself arrested. It soon turned into a party when people broke out their supplies of sweets and cakes from home to share with everyone else. Ernie, Robert, Justin, and a couple of other brave souls risked Filch's wrath by sneaking into the kitchens for more food and drinks. "I thought we were dead when Mrs. Norris found us," Robert was telling everyone, "but then Norman showed up and…well, started flirting with her."

Hex watched everyone laugh at the story. Somehow, Halloween had changed the Hufflepuffs. Before, everyone was polite but minded their own business. Today, they were talking and laughing together like real friends. He dimly remembered the entire table telling Malfoy to shut up the night before. Ernie, Robert and the other wizard-born Hufflepuffs weren't giving him you're-weird looks anymore. Peggy was even pouring herself a bowl of cereal.

And Maeve, who used to be so sweet, now had a dark look on her face. The entire table — indeed, the entire Great Hall — fell silent as Ron approached the Hufflepuff table, flanked by Harry and Hermione. "Er, hi, Hex," the red-haired Gryffindor said in a falsely bright voice.

"Hey," Hex said politely, nodding to Harry and Hermione. "How's it going?"

"All right…and you?"

"Just fine. What's up?"

Ron turned red under the dirty looks from many of the Hufflepuffs. "I just —"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Potty, the Weasel and the Mudblood, come to pay the Yank a visit," Malfoy drawled, walking up to the group. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle upset a few breakfasts onto the laps of their Hufflepuff owners. 

"Why, Wacko Barf-boy!" Hex said in a voice loud enough to carry throughout the Great Hall. "How lovely of you to drop in, too!"

Malfoy flushed pink as almost everyone within earshot laughed at his new name. "You're pronouncing my name all wrong, you uncouth lout."

"Did you hear that?" Hex jumped up onto the bench and addressed the room in the same loud voice. "He called me a lout! I'm hurt, Barf-boy. I'm really hurt. But I know you're just doing that because you're angry right now, and you're a loser, and no one likes you."

By now, Crabbe and Goyle had moved on to the Ravenclaw table and were playing tiddlywinks with breakfast plates. A third year girl covered in eggs burst into tears.

"People," Hex went on, "Barf-boy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle feel bad. They think that no one likes them. Well, _I_ like them. Don't you?"

__

"NO!" most of the students replied emphatically.

"Oh, that's harsh," Hex continued to orate. "They're all very nice on the inside. Why don't we take a moment to ask ourselves, _why are they so mean?_ Why are they trying so hard to hide who they really are?

"_Why_, Barf-boy? Is it because your mommy never let you sleep with your widdle teddy bear when you were a kid?" The Hall began to laugh as Malfoy blushed in embarrassment. "Or maybe you had cooties and no one wanted to play with you! Poor, poor Barf-boy! I feel your pain! (A/N: Haha, Bill Clinton moment right there…)

"And how about Crabbe and Goyle?" At the sound of their names, the two Slytherins quit trying to juggle Terry Boot's pancakes and looked blankly in Hex's direction. "Why do they spill food on people? Huh? Crabbe and Goyle, were you messy widdle babies? Maybe you didn't like your strained spinach and spit that up all over your mommies?

"Actually, _I_ know why Barf-boy, Crabbe and Goyle are always so mean." Hex held up and wiggled a pinky finger. "All of us guys who've seen them in the quidditch locker rooms know why!" The Great Hall roared with laughter as Malfoy's face burned. "I think we should do something real nice for our friends, Barf-boy, Crabbe and Goyle. Shouldn't we let them feel the _love_?" As the rest of the Hall yelled its approval, Hex held up his plate of bacon and eggs. "Yes, we should! Everyone, pick up your plates! That's right!" he yelled as everyone except the Slytherins picked up their plates and held them up high. "Now, on the count of three, let's share our breakfast with our three best friends! One…two…_three!_"

Bellowing "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow," Hex upended his plate over Crabbe's thick head. The entire Hall rang with the ditty as many from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw followed suit, doling out bacon, eggs, toast and even pumpkin juice over Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Maeve took a special pleasure in pouring a bowl of cereal over Malfoy's head.

Everyone was standing and applauding the three food-covered figures when Professor McGonagall entered the room to investigate the noise. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded of the suddenly-silent Hall.

"They didn't want to eat breakfast, Professor," Hex said. "And in America, we have a saying that goes _'Eat it, or wear it!'_"

"Whether you leave it on your plate or wear it, food gets wasted nonetheless. Is this your doing?"

"Please, Professor, they brought it on themselves," a third-year Ravenclaw with cereal on her robes piped up. "They've been doing it to us for years!"

Professor McGonagall's lips thinned, but not in anger, as most of the Hall corroborated this story. "This childish behavior still merits punishment, Mr. Holmstrom. Ten points from Hufflepuff and detention for you. Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle, ten points each from Slytherin for _your_ childish behavior. Clean yourselves up."

The Great Hall applauded Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle out of the room, and sat down to a stone-cold breakfast that tasted marvelous. 

After a scolding and a laugh over the incident, Maggie gave Hex Saturday off so he could serve his detention. While the rest of their year went off to spend the weekend in the magical village of Hogsmeade, he and Ron (who was serving the detention given to him last Halloween) were given shovels and ordered to muck out the school stables. 

__

"Oh, man! That reeks!" Hex exclaimed when they entered the building. It was an uncharacteristically warm day, and the smell of manure was so strong in the closed space that it was as if they had walked into a huge pile of the stuff. "No wonder Filch walked away cackling! What the hell lives here?"

"More importantly," Ron choked, "what do they eat?"

"Let's open the windows!" The windows hadn't been opened in ages, so it took a while and a lot effort to get them open. It didn't help much. "Can you get points off your house for air pollution?" Hex said, trying to inhale as little as possible.

The other boy resolutely grabbed his shovel. "Come on. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish."

Either way, the job lasted longer than either of them would have liked. The hot sun made the already unbearable smell even more stifling. They worked right through lunch (no one was willing to brave the odor to bring them any food) and for a good long time after that. The shadows were getting longer and the setting sunlight turning golden when the magical wheelbarrows carted the last loads away, leaving the two boys sweaty, aching, hungry, and smelling none too fresh.

Hex collapsed on a grassy bank under a tree. He had long since shed his T-shirt, and the grass felt wonderfully cool against his skin. "I feel like shit."

Ron laughed and fell onto the grass next to him. "You smell like it, too." 

"And I suppose you smell like flowers." The other boy had taken his own shirt off, too. Hex was embarrassed to note that while they were both fifteen, Ron already had hair on his chest. (A/N: Just an idle, locker-room-type observation, no slash intended.)

"I am bloody starving."

"I want a shower, a cheeseburger, and my bed, in that order."

"We'd also better go to Madam Pomfrey," Ron said, inspecting the blisters on his palms. 

"After the shower, or she'll accuse us of contaminating the hospital wing." For a while, they just lay there, letting the gentle breeze cool their sweat and ruffle the leaves on the branches overhead. "Where'd everyone else go again?"

"Hogsmeade. It's the only known all-wizard village in Britain. Too bad you couldn't go today."

Hex shrugged. "I never go because I work on weekends. Wish I could, though. Maeve's got my money and she's buying my broomstick."

"Have you got enough saved up, then?" 

"Yeah. She says I might be able to get a good secondhand Comet Two-something. God knows I can't use a school broomstick for quidditch."

Ron smiled slightly. "It'd do us good if you did."

"Ha ha ha. Sorry to disappoint you, dude."

"Dude?"

"Yeah. It's like _'man,'_ or _'pal,'_ or _'friend.'_"

"Friend, huh?" Ron turned red. "I haven't been much of that to you lately."

"Hey, if this is about Halloween, that's forgotten. I know you didn't mean anything by it."

"Maybe I did," the other boy murmured.

"What?"

"Maybe I did," Ron repeated, ashamed. "I'm…I don't know why myself, but, I think—"

"—you were jealous of me hanging around Hermione all the time?"

Ron gaped. "What?"

"Red, there is this tension between the two of you that's as bad as the stink in those stables." Hex chuckled. "If you didn't try to get me arrested because of _that_, then I don't know why you did it."

They were silent for a moment as Ron digested this information, a mortified look on his face. After a few minutes, his expression softened and he turned as red as his hair. "Bloody hell, I think you're right." He rolled onto his back, dazed. "What do I do now?"

"First you have to know that Hermione's a real nice girl, but we're just friends, OK? So there is no need to be jealous of me."

"She just wouldn't stop talking about you," Ron mumbled. "How well you were doing and all that."

"When Dumbledore told her she would be tutoring me, she wasn't sure she could do it. My guess is she's proud I'm catching up real fast. You could try being supportive or something." Hex smiled as the other boy nodded slowly, still dazed. "You could also try getting up so we can go back to the castle. I still want a shower, a cheeseburger, and my bed."

"You aren't going to say anything about this to her, are you?" Ron asked fearfully.

"Don't worry, dude." The other boy though ruefully about his own secret and what could happen to him if Peter ever found it out. "Your secret's safe with me."

Unfortunately, Hex didn't give Ron any idea of what to do when Hermione actually got back to the castle, so the next evening, sitting next to her in the packed library, he was as relaxed as a board.

Even Harry noticed. "Anything wrong, Ron?"

"No," he replied in a rather abstracted voice, flipping through _1001 Essential Elixirs_. Before leaving Hogwarts for the weekend, most of the teachers had given an inordinate amount of assignments to keep the students occupied and drive Madam Pince out of her gourd. "Why would anything be wrong?"

"I don't know. You're acting strange."

Hermione looked up from her Arithmancy homework to look critically at the redheaded boy. "Harry's right, you know. You're acting strange. You should go see Madam Pomfrey."

"There's nothing wrong with me," Ron said, blushing. 

From his place with the other Hufflepuffs at the other end of the table, Hex chuckled. "Nothing more wrong than usual, anyway." 

"I'm serious, Ron," Hermione insisted. "If you aren't feeling well, you must go to Madam Pomfrey right now."

Hex grinned at the pleading gaze the now crimson-faced Gryffindor shot him. "Madam Pomfrey's done all she can for us, Herm. We're both just still a little stiff from detention yesterday."

"Nothing a little rest won't cure—" Ron added, suddenly grinning crazily, "—Herm."

"If you say so," she said, glaring at her friends, who were unsuccessfully hiding their sniggers at her new nickname. "If any of you call me _Herm_ again, I'll hex you!"

****

Concluding Remarks: Maeve "murderous"? Oh, my! :D I hope that near-arrest episode showed that she does have some initiative. She gets snooty (and violent) later in this fic — she _did_ grow up with the Malfoys, after all. Don't ever call her a Mary Sue, or she'll very daintily give you a good kick in the pants!

And yippee — an R/H moment! Yes, I am 100% all for Ron and Hermione getting together. (It just makes sense!) And if you're still wondering Hex is trying to keep from Peter, I suggest you refer to the previous chapters, especially the one where he meets them on the train. I've been hinting at it since then!

Up next: Hex's first quidditch match and the aftermath thereof! Enjoy! ~ Ara Kane


	9. High Noon in Hogwarts

****

Disclaimer: I own most of the Ravenclaw and the entire Hufflepuff quidditch teams, the Comet Three-Eleven model broomstick, Maggie McGonagall, and _Professional Quidditch Illustrated_ magazine. JK Rowling owns Hogwarts and its inhabitants, as well as the Nimubs Two Thousand model broomstick. (Oops, I forgot to mention that in the previous chapter…anyway, it is not mine.) Gordon Korman's hilarious children's book, _The Zucchini Warriors_, inspired the tuba part. Wayne Gretzky and Michael Jordan belong to themselves.

****

Introductory Remarks: This is a quidditch-centered chapter. I put Wayne Gretzky in it because I thought it would be interesting for him to actually be a wizard, like Sylvester Stallone's being an alien in the movie _Men In Black_. (But I love Wayne, so I'm not going to imply that he used his powers to post such impressive numbers in the NHL. He had so much natural talent he didn't need to do so.)

__

High Noon in Hogwarts 

With the first match against Ravenclaw coming up at the end of the month, quidditch mania spread through Hufflepuff House. The merits of different players, broomsticks, and maneuvers were discussed. The House teams were closely analyzed, and secret bets placed. From the bits and pieces Hex picked up, Gryffindor and Slytherin were the teams to beat. Hufflepuff was expected to finish last again this year, given the inexperienced team their captain, sixth-year Chaser Samira Sabo, had to put together from scratch; and the blow dealt by the death of Cedric Diggory.

"Well, I, for one, want to disappoint everyone this year," Hex said in the common room one night after practice, as he and the other fifth years did their homework for Defense Against the Dark Arts. With quidditch starting to take up more of his time, studying with his classmates really did help. 

"What do you mean?" Ernie asked.

"What I mean is," Hex replied, looking through _Intermediate Curses and Counter-Curses_, "We aren't going to finish last again this year."

Maeve smiled at him. "_I_ think we'll do better this year, too." Although the team had never played together before, in practice they moved as a unit. Samira had discovered some hidden talents among the younger students and Hex, who hadn't even known what quidditch was before coming to Hogwarts, formed a solid defensive team with Peggy Abbott, of all people. "We'll surprise them all."

"That's the spirit, Maeve!" Hex said, finishing his essay with a flourish. "We'll kick Slytherin and Gryffindor's butts!"

That earned him his first you're-weird looks in weeks. "Are you crazy? How can we beat _Gryffindor_?" Hannah Abbott asked. "Harry Potter's got a _Firebolt_!"

"Yeah, well, it's not the kind of broomstick that counts, but the person on it, right?" With the money from Hex's repair jobs, Maeve had managed to get him a secondhand Comet Three-Eleven. It wasn't in the same league as a Nimbus Two Thousand, but everyone who'd seen him on it had to admit Hex was doing a good job as Beater.

As he waited for Peter to finish with his own assignments, Hex borrowed Ernie's _Professional Quidditch Illustrated _magazine to give his brain a break. _"What the—?!"_ He gawked as the red-robed wizard on the cover knocked a Bludger through a quidditch hoop to distract the opposing Keeper and allow his Chaser to score. _"Wayne Gretzky?"_

"Who?" Ernie looked at his magazine. "Gretzky? Oh, yes, he plays Beater for Canada. He's only been there two years, but he's already introduced all kinds of new maneuvers."

"Canada is a heavy favorite for the next World Cup," Robert, the Hufflepuff Keeper, said. "They would have made it last year, except one of their Chasers lost some fingers to frostbite or something."

Hex shook his head, still shocked. "This is insane. What next — Michael Jordan playing Chaser for the USA?"

That Friday afternoon, the bleachers at Hogwarts' first quidditch match of the year were filled not only with supporters of the Ravenclaw and Slytherin House teams, but also with Hufflepuffs helping their House team "scope out the competition." Each one was armed with a pencil and notebook, ready to take down every strength and weakness they could observe from both of the teams competing that day.

"This was a brilliant idea, Samira," Maeve complimented the Hufflepuff captain.

Samira, a tall girl with coffee-colored skin and wildly curly brown hair, smiled. "Thank you, but it was Hex who thought of asking all the other Hufflepuffs to come, too," she admitted.

"Yes, well, Cedric never thought of observing the other teams for weaknesses," Maeve insisted. Ever since the night she led a stereo-wielding mob into Dumbledore's office, she had begun to speak up more, although her big eyes and playful giggles still did much in helping her win arguments. 

"They're starting!" Hex, sitting beside her, said excitedly. They applauded politely as the Ravenclaw side was introduced, and hissed as the Slytherins, led by Malfoy, took the field. 

His eyes remained glued to the pitch as Chasers zoomed by in pursuit of the Quaffle and Beaters fended off the Bludgers. He noted that the Ravenclaws were cool and methodical, positioning themselves just so in order to execute a carefully calculated maneuver. They moved with precision and an intimidating finesse, as finely balanced as a house of cards. On the other hand, while the Slytherins had the same skills to some extent, they preferred a heavy-handed — even dirty — style of play. They fouled fairly often, but Ravenclaw missed many penalty shots because of the heckling from the Slytherin supporters. 

Malfoy eventually won it for Slytherin by catching the Golden Snitch (but only after a Beater's club almost knocked Cho Chang off her broomstick), ending the game 60-250. 

"What do you think?" Samira asked.

Hex turned away from the sight of the Slytherins gloating. "We can take them."

Bridget Houlihan, a second year Chaser, beamed at Hex's pronouncement. "We should hold a team meeting to discuss our observations. My friends took ever so many notes and our match is in two weeks."

"We'll do that," Samira agreed. "In fact, let's hold a _House_ meeting. I think a lot of people will want to share." She grinned. "Why don't we just hold a party while we're at it?"

"Now we're talking," Robert said with a grin of his own. "Let's plan some more inside." 

Hex let the others go ahead as he got his things together, then waited for Peter as the other boy did the same. That was when Hex spied the scraps of parchment Peter had been using to take notes. Lying forgotten on the bench, the top piece contained the names of the Ravenclaw team and a sketch of Maeve as she watched the match. "Hey, Pete, that's really good," Hex said, staring at the drawing. "I didn't know you could draw."

The big boy saw what he was looking at and blushed. "I'm sorry. I should have been taking notes—"

"Can I have it?" 

Peter saw the red flood his friend's cheeks and grinned. "Take it." He finished packing and rose as the other boy pocketed the drawing. "You know, if you play your cards right, you can have the real thing, too."

"What?"

"Come off it, Hex; you know what I mean."

By now, Hex was sure his face was as red as the famed Weasley hair. "But…isn't she your girlfriend?"

"Maeve? My girlfriend?" Peter chuckled. "No. We're only friends. I–I'm more interested in someone else," he mumbled, blushing as Susan Bones walked by and smiled at him. She was a thin, rather mousy girl, definitely not in Maeve's league, but the smile lit up her pale face and showed Hex how far below the surface his friend could see.

Hex grinned. _Pete and Susan, sitting in a tree…_ "And I bet she's interested in you, too."

"And it's a beautiful day for a quidditch match!" Justin Finch-Fletchley yelled into Professor McGonagall's magical megaphone one sunny Saturday afternoon two weeks later. "Welcome, students and faculty, to Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw — _High Noon in Hogwarts!_"

In the stands, the Hufflepuff students whooped. Spirits were high after last night's team party. The consensus was that the element of surprise would help the new Hufflepuff team distract and defeat the methodical Ravenclaws. Hex had also made all sorts of outrageous suggestions that had the Hufflepuffs actually looking forward to the match, instead of dreading it as another shot at humiliation.

Maggie McGonagall, who had shut the shop for the day to watch the game, waved a yellow scarf and cheered. An old tuba manned by Ernie, Hannah, Susan and Peter — each of them blowing on a hose attached to the instrument — emitted a tremendous blast. (A/N: I have no idea where they got the tuba. I am assuming that Hogwarts, like any fine school, offers extra-curricular activities, including music.)

Hex and his teammates heard the sound from inside the tunnel in which they waited, clad in their canary-yellow quidditch robes. Ignoring the army of butterflies in his stomach, he grinned at everyone. "We're going to win."

"Y-yes, we will," Robert said, looking like he was going to be ill. The rest of the team, even Maeve, echoed him just as weakly.

Above their heads, Justin was introducing the Ravenclaw team, whose supporters applauded after each name was announced. "Come on, everyone," Samira said. "Today, we're going to forget about being the Hogwarts doormats. We're going to shock everyone. We're going to win!"

"And we're going to do this for Cedric," Peggy said, glancing at the black armband on her sleeve.

At her words, all doubt vanished from the team's eyes. "For Cedric," Bridget said resolutely.

Justin's magically magnified stereo and the rhythmic stomping overhead signaled the team's cue to take the pitch as they beat out the introduction to Queen's "We Will Rock You." _"And now—"_ Justin began dramatically as the Hufflepuff crowd cheered, _"—may I present to you —"_

Robert grinned at Hex as they mounted their broomsticks. "You and your American gimmickry," he said, laughing and shaking his head. "Good luck," he told everyone as he flew out of the tunnel, with Justin bellowing _"Padgett!"_

The Hufflepuffs cheered as one by one, their players flew out into the sunlight. _"Sabo! Houlihan! Derwent! Abbott! Holmstrom!…aaand — Moondaughter! Ladies and gentlemen, your Hufflepuff quidditch team!"_

The two teams faced each other as the captains shook hands, then took their positions. Hex winked at Maeve before she went to take her place. "They won't touch you," he vowed. 

"Madam Hooch, the referee for today's match, has just released the balls," Justin announced as the four quidditch balls rose into the air and the Golden Snitch flew out of sight. "This is Hufflepuff's first quidditch match since the death of its star Seeker, Cedric Diggory, at the hands of You-Know-Who. Today, the Hufflepuffs honor his memory by way of the black armbands on their robes."

"Oh, those children." Professor Sprout sniffled into a large Hufflepuff banner.

A piercing whistle blew. "And the game has begun! Hufflepuff Chaser Houlihan in possession of the Quaffle—_watch out for the Bludger!_—whew…Uh-oh, the Ravenclaw Chasers are closing in on her using the classic Flying V formation, it's almost unbeatable—_did you see that, ladies and gentlemen? _Houlihan dipped just as the Ravenclaw Chasers were going to box her in and avoided capture! She's speeding toward the Ravenclaw goal now—_yes! She beats Keeper Roger Davies!_ 10-0 in favor of Hufflepuff!"

Hex roared his approval along with the other Hufflepuffs, but looked around just in time to knock away a Bludger that was speeding toward him. Peggy intercepted it and sent the Bludger toward the three Ravenclaw Chasers, one of them in possession of the Quaffle. The three promptly scattered, and Hex sent in the other Bludger to knock the Quaffle out of Ravenclaw Chaser Sarah Porter's arms. 

"Despite the brave effort by Hufflepuff Beater Holmstrom, Ravenclaw regains possession of the Quaffle," Justin continued, "and the Chasers are now flying far apart…Seekers Moondaughter and Chang are still waiting for the Snitch to make its appearance…_Moondaughter dives!_—False alarm…Ravenclaw is closing in on the Hufflepuff goal…_watch out for the Bludger, Robert!_…_Spectacular save by Padgett!_" The Hufflepuffs cheered as Robert ducked the Bludger and just managed to block the Quaffle before it entered the goal. "Ladies, that save was made by none other than Mr. Robert Padgett, a fifth year Hufflepuff hailing from Yorkshire. He's very much single, enjoys romantic rowboat rides on the lake…any interested girl may contact me after the match…"

Samira took possession of the Quaffle and began to make her way toward the Ravenclaw goal. However, a Bludger caused her to surrender it to Sarah Porter and the Ravenclaws sped back toward the Hufflepuff side of the pitch, flying far apart as they had before. This time, another Bludger knocked Robert out of position and Ravenclaw tied the score. 

Hex frowned as, almost immediately, they scored another goal and took the lead. Despite the team's best efforts, the score at the first time-out was 80-20 in favor of Ravenclaw. 

Maeve caught sight of the Snitch when the game resumed, but a Bludger caused her to veer off course and allowed the Snitch to fly away free again. However, the same Bludger forced a Ravenclaw Chaser to drop the Quaffle. Hex managed to get under the red ball and club it toward Bridget.

"Holmstrom gives the Quaffle to Houlihan!" Justin cried. "It's rare for a Beater to work the Quaffle, but Madam Hooch is nodding, so it's perfectly within the rules…Houlihan speeds toward the Ravenclaw goal, tailed by the big Ravenclaw Beater, Warwick; Keeper Davies at the ready—_no, I don't believe it!_ Abbott sends a Bludger toward Warwick, it ricochets off the end of Warwick's broomstick and almost hits Davies—_Hufflepuff scores!_"

Peggy's move was successful, but it earned Ravenclaw a penalty. Shooting the Hufflepuffs a dirty look, Sarah Porter took her position to face Robert. However, the heckling from the Hufflepuffs, coupled with erratic blasts from the tuba, caused her to miss the goal and the game resumed.

"Hufflepuff in possession of the Quaffle…_was that the Snitch?_ Moondaughter dives, but a Bludger knocks her off-course again…Abbott sends the other Bludger toward Chang…Hufflepuff Chaser Derwent is nearing the goal—_watch out, Tim!—Foul!_"

"Penalty to Hufflepuff for damage to their Chaser!" Madam Hooch announced. Warwick had intentionally collided with Timothy Derwent, who was a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter. "I had expected this sort of strategy from Slytherin, but from _Ravenclaw_…!"

"I think we're starting to get to them," Samira observed to the others as Timothy scored a goal. (_Nothing but hoop!"_ Justin chortled.) She grinned. "Let's keep going."

A flash of gold sped right past of Hex's nose, followed almost immediately by a Bludger going in the opposite direction. Hex intercepted it just before it hit Maeve, and sent it hurtling toward Cho Chang. "If Maeve doesn't get it, _she_ doesn't get it!" he called to the other Ravenclaw Beater, Montrose, a rangy young man with his eyeglasses strapped to his head. "You hear me, Pointdexter?"

Bridget tied the score and that sent the Hufflepuffs in the audience to their feet, yelling and cheering, with noisemakers back in action. Hex grinned as Maggie led another rendition of "We Will Rock You" before zooming in to fly alongside Vincent Lunel, the Ravenclaw Chaser in possession of the Quaffle. "You're gonna miss, Vinnie," he hissed. "Miss, miss, miss…"

Lunel glared at him before trying for a goal, and indeed he missed. "Thank you," Hex said, speeding off before the Chaser could go after him.

At the next time out (with the score still tied at 80), Hex told the others to try and psyche out the opposing players. "You all right?" he asked Maeve, wiping his sweaty face.

She smiled, still beautiful even with a flushed face and sweaty tendrils of hair escaping the bun at the top of her head. "Just fine, thank you."

"Good." He smiled and turned to discuss strategy with Peggy. "We'd better stay close to the Bludgers. Make sure Ravenclaw can't use them…"

She nodded seriously, her face set. "Right."

"And Abbott catches a Bludger just in time to keep Cho Chang from catching the Snitch! Way to go, Peggy!" Justin cheered. "Gentlemen, Miss Peggy Abbott is also single, a beautiful seventh year from Hufflepuff—_but watch out! _Montrose tried to hit her and he almost fell off his broom instead! There's more to this young woman than meets the eye, folks!…Yes, Professor McGonagall, I'll get back to the game…Here comes Holmstrom, in possession of the other Bludger…knocks the Quaffle away from Lunel and bats it again to Houlihan—a new player, she's scored four of the eight Hufflepuff goals this—_make that five! Five goals! Hufflepuff takes the lead, 80-90, and the crowd goes wild!_

"One of the Seekers — preferably Maeve Moondaughter of Hufflepuff, heh heh — had better catch the Snitch soon, because this excitement is getting too much for me! I have never seen such a performance from the Hufflepuff team, even from the one led by the late Cedric Diggory that beat Gryffindor! Samira Sabo definitely has my vote for next year's team captain!…Oh, and Sabo scores!"

"We have to start helping Maeve catch the Snitch," Peggy murmured to Hex as she caught up with him briefly. "Let's not give Ravenclaw a chance to catch up with us."

Hex nodded. "One of us always better watch Maeve so none of the Bludgers get her."

The other Beater grinned. "Since you volunteered, you've got the job."

He rose above the action to mark Maeve and Cho's movements. The two Seekers circled over the pitch, looking around for a telltale flash of gold. Hex startled Maeve almost off her broomstick by swooping in to fend off a Bludger and send it rocketing toward Cho. "Sorry," he said. "Just…go on."

She smiled at him just as Cho went into a dive. _"She's seen the Snitch!_" Justin screamed.

Maeve dove a moment too late. Cho had a good lead on her as they both sped toward the tiny gold ball hovering only a few feet above the ground. Then the Hufflepuff Seeker decided to catch up with Cho by going into free fall.

__

"What is she doing?" Justin cried. The crowd watched, some stunned, some screaming, as she jumped off her broomstick and plummeted to the ground. 

"Oh!" Cho pulled to a stop as Maeve plunged past her, followed by another yellow blur on a secondhand broomstick. Hex got a good hold around Maeve's waist just as her hand closed over the Snitch.

Madam Hooch's whistle blew.

****

Concluding Remarks: YAAAAAAAY!!!! :D I wholeheartedly agree that, with the exception of Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff House hasn't been given much attention. When I first read _Harry Potter and the Philospher's Stone/Sorcerer's Stone_, I honestly thought Harry would be Sorted into Hufflepuff and erase their reputation as a bunch of duffers. JK Rowling startled the socks off me by putting him in Gryffindor, and this fic is born of that initial disappointment. 

And there, Hex's secret thing for Maeve is out (at least Peter knows, anyway). I'm pairing Peter up with Susan Bones because he's such a nice boy and he deserves someone as sweet as he is.

Up next: serious things begin to happen. I hope to upload a couple of companion pieces before I leave, to make up for my long absence and thank everyone for the lovely reviews. Stay tuned! ~ Ara Kane


	10. The Thrill of Victory

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Disclaimer: I own most of the Ravenclaw and the entire Hufflepuff quidditch teams, Polynesian Blagidli Palms, and Fluffernutters. JK Rowling owns Hogwarts and the rest of its inhabitants. (But she let me put a suit of armor outside the Hufflepuff dormitory.) She also owns Azkaban, its inhabitants, and the Lestranges. Finally, I am proud to announce that I do _NOT_ own the Macarena.

__

The Thrill of Victory

There was a moment of stunned silence, then the Hufflepuffs roared as Hex pulled Maeve out of her dive, holding the Snitch high above her head. _"Final Score — 250 Hufflepuff, 80 Ravenclaw!"_ Justin cried, voice breaking. _"HUFFLEPUFF WINS!"_

Hex helped her clamber back onto her broomstick. _"Don't you ever do that again!"_ he yelled.

Maeve smiled cheerfully and showed him the Snitch, like a child who had just found a pretty rock. "But we won!"

__

"Next time we won't win that way, you hear me?" he screeched as the rest of the Hufflepuff team joined them, torn between joy at their victory and astonishment at Maeve's death-defying move. 

"We did it! We did it!" Robert cried, pounding Hex's back. He snapped out of his high long enough to look dazedly at Maeve. "You are insane, you know that?"

"It's a good thing Hex caught you!" Bridget said, her face pale.

Presently, Professor Sprout arrived on the scene, dragging Madam Pomfrey in her wake. "Where is she?" she squawked. "Oh, my child…"

"She's fine, Professor," Samira shakily assured their Head of House.

At the sight of Maeve, alive and well in Hex's arms, Professor Sprout fainted dead away. Madam Pomfrey gave Maeve a cursory examination, scolded her briefly for her recklessness, and went on to tend to the unconscious teacher.

Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw captain, was arguing with Madam Hooch. "She wasn't on a broomstick when she caught the Snitch—"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Davies. It was a highly unorthodox move, but the victory holds," the flying instructor replied. "Hufflepuff wins."

"One down, two to go," Hex said as the tuba blasted again over the Hufflepuffs' cheers.

Maeve wriggled to be let down. "Can you let go of me now?"

Hufflepuff House was on a high for the rest of the weekend. There was a celebration the likes of which had never been seen in the Hufflepuff dormitory, with plenty of Honeydukes sweets, music and laughter, as well as the sight of Professor Sprout and the suit of armor learning the Macarena. 

The suit of armor was still dancing that snowy Monday morning, when Hex and his friends left the dormitory for breakfast. "I reckon it must be boring standing around, guarding the entrance all day," Peter said. "It must be happy to have something else to do."

In the Great Hall, they were greeted warmly by everyone at the Hufflepuff table. "Ladies and gentlemen, our Most Valuable Players!" Justin announced, applauding as Hex went around the table, slapping high-fives. 

"Enjoy it while you can," Malfoy said snidely from the Slytherin table. "That victory is going to have to last you a long time."

"Well, Barf-boy, if you want to jump off your broomstick to catch the Snitch, we're not stopping you."

The pale boy flushed pink as the Hufflepuffs laughed. "Getting too big for your britches, aren't you, Finch-Fletchley?"

Justin grinned good-naturedly. "Maybe I am…which is more than I can say for you, eh?"

When Hex entered Potions well before the start of class, he was greeted by cold stares from the Ravenclaws. Padma Patil wasn't batting her eyelashes like she did every time she saw him. One boy, whom Hex recognized as a Ravenclaw Chaser, looked as if he was reaching for his wand.

Fortunately, Peter's arrival stopped them from zapping Hex with a curse or two. The big boy looked mildly from Hex to the Ravenclaws, most of who looked like they were managing to curb their anger. Finally, when Maeve walked into the dungeon and smiled cheerfully at everyone, the Ravenclaws nodded at her with grudging respect. She may be one of the evil Hufflepuffs that beat them at quidditch last weekend, but she was also the lunatic who jumped off her broomstick and fell over a hundred feet to do it.

However, it didn't stop them from retaliating in a small way while Snape wasn't looking. Quite a few Hufflepuffs had to shake a few newts' eyes off their robes and out of their hair on the way to Herbology. 

Professor Sprout greeted her students warmly as they entered the greenhouse. "Before we begin today's lesson, an announcement," she told the class after they were in their places. "Owing to the great success of the Yule Ball last year, Hogwarts has decided to hold another formal dance this year—"

Shrill giggles from Lavender, Parvati and quite a few Hufflepuff girls as well. Hermione and most of the boys in the class groaned softly and rolled their eyes.

"—before the start of the Christmas break," Professor Sprout continued. "It will be held in the Great Hall on the 20th of December, the day before students are allowed to go home for the holidays, beginning at eight o'clock in the evening until midnight. Dress robes will be worn. Just like last year, only fourth years and above may attend, although you may invite a younger student to come along if you wish."

Quite a few of the students were blushing by now, and it wasn't because of the heat in the greenhouse.

With the announcement done, Professor Sprout turned to the day's lesson. "Today we will be repotting our young Polynesian Blagidli Palms." She gestured to the small, turquoise blue plants on their tables. "Can anyone tell me the properties of this plant?"

Maeve's hand shot up in the air before anyone else's could.

Professor Sprout looked pleasantly surprised. "Miss Moondaughter?"

"The Polynesian Blagidli Palm is useful from its leaves to its roots," Maeve said as Hermione put down her hand, disappointed. "The leaves, when used as a fan, can create a breeze strong enough to propel a raft lost at sea. The wood is used in the making of wands, a well-known example of which is the one used by Honi-Tiki the Magnificent to rid his island kingdom of tropical pixies in 1965. The dried leaves, fruit and roots are all used in the making of potions that can keep a person's body temperature normal even in extreme heat or cold, heal burns and heatstroke, and even reattach limbs lost to frostbite."

"Excellent, Miss Moondaughter," the teacher said with a broad grin. "Take ten points for Hufflepuff."

The Hufflepuffs all grinned at her and Peter patted her back. "Good one, Maeve."

"I reckon we ought to keep Hermione away from you, Maeve," Ron said. "She's a bad influence."

"Come off it!" Hermione said as Professor Sprout asked why the palms needed repotting in the special mulch piled in one corner of the greenhouse. Maeve's hand beat hers and Neville's again. "Now look what you've done! You made me miss the question!"

"Blagidli Palms are tropical plants," Maeve said when Professor Sprout called on her. "They're used to damp and heat. Our soil does not have the same properties as the areas where the palms naturally grow."

"Excellent! That is correct. Take ten more points for Hufflepuff. Now, let us get to work. Will one person come forward to get enough mulch for his or her table?"

After watching skinny Seamus Finnigan struggle with a sack full of the soggy black stuff, Peter volunteered to get the mulch for their table. "Heard about your victory last Saturday," Ron said. "Did Maeve really jump off her broomstick to catch the Snitch?"

"Yes, she did," Hex said flatly. "Took ten years off my life. I almost didn't catch her."

"Well, you did," Maeve said with a serene smile even as Harry violently plunked a Blagidli Palm down in front of her, splattering her with dirt.

"Watch it, Harry!" Hermione said, brushing off some that had gotten on her robes.

"_Someone_ sure has his underwear in a festival," Hex observed dryly.

"He's just mad because Maeve beat Cho Chang," Ron teased. That earned him a particularly large splatter of dirt as Harry gave him his plant. "Come off it, Harry. Just because she lost doesn't mean you can't ask Cho to the ball anymore." 

"Sorry," Harry said, blushing when Hex and Ron chuckled. "I am acting rather childish."

Just then, Peter returned and set their sack of mulch heavily on the table, and a nice glob found its way onto Harry's robes. "Guess we're even now," Hex said, as everyone laughed and began repotting their Blagidli Palms in a much lighter mood.

"So you're going to ask Cho Chang to the dance?" Hex asked Harry. When the dark-haired boy nodded, he grinned at Ron, who was working in silence right across him. "How 'bout you, Red? Who are you going to ask?"

He turned crimson and looked daggers at Hex. "Well," he said slowly, "I reckon I'm going to ask…I'm going to ask—" He turned to Hermione, who was looking expectantly at him, "—Hermione."

Everyone at the table grinned as she blushed. "What?"

Looking like he was about to face a firing squad, Ron mumbled, "Would you go to the ball with me?"

"With you?" she stammered. 

He nodded, keeping his eyes on his Blagidli Palm. Hex discreetly nudged him with his foot under the table, prompting Ron to look back up at Hermione. "Uh, if you were planning to go ask someone else, I'll un—"

The table shook violently as Hex kicked him in the shin. "Oof!" Ron bit back an oath glared at him.

"Ron, are you all right?" Hermione asked, her face full of concern.

"Sorry about that," Ron told her. "So…would you?"

She smiled shakily. "I–I'd love to."

"Good." Ron grinned shyly. "I wanted to make sure I had a partner before all the good ones are taken."

Hex and Harry were congratulating Ron on finding a partner when Professor Sinistra, who taught Astronomy, showed up at the greenhouse. "Professor Sprout," the tall, white-haired woman said, looking rather nervous, "may I have a word?"

Professor Sprout nodded, looking confused, and the two teachers retreated to a quiet corner of the greenhouse. Ron, his cheeks still red, frowned thoughtfully at them. "What do you reckon is that all about?"

"Beats me," Hex replied, patting down the mulch around his Blagidli palm.

"It looks serious. Professor Sprout looks like she's been stunned."

"Maybe something's happened to someone fighting Voldemort," Harry said, turning pale.

"Don't say the name," Ron told his friend, paling as well.

"Well, we aren't going to find out if we just stand around here while they're over there," Hermione said impatiently. "Wait here."

They watched as Hermione pretended to return some excess mulch to the pile near the teachers. "Oh, no," Harry murmured when a look of shock crossed his friend's face. "Oh, no…"

"What is it?" Ron asked as Hermione made her way slowly back to their table. "Did anyone die?"

She shook her head, her face pale. "No, no one died." She raised stricken brown eyes to look at them all. "The Lestranges have broken out of Azkaban."

"Who are the Lestranges?" Hex asked Peter during break later that day. They were on their way to Hagrid's cabin near the Forbidden Forest to visit Zippo. The Fluffernutter was now twice as tall as Norman and still growing. He was also growing a nice pair of razor-sharp fangs.

"Death Eaters — supporters of You-Know-Who," the big boy replied. "They're a married couple and they helped recruit more Death Eaters. After Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who, many Death Eaters came out of some kind of trance claiming that the Lestranges took them over—"

"Wait a minute — _Harry_ defeated You-Know-Who?"

"Why, yes. You-Know-Who killed his parents and tried to kill him, too, but the curse backfired. That's why Harry has that scar on his forehead."

"Whoa." Hex shook his head in disbelief. All this talk about Voldemort and Death Eaters was unsettling enough. Actually knowing someone who had gone through — and survived — an encounter with that kind of evil made it downright creepy. "Anyway, what were you saying about the Lestranges?"

"The Lestranges were the ones in charge of getting more followers and information for You-Know-Who," Peter repeated. "Sometimes all they had to do was convince people to become Death Eaters, but other times the Lestranges put them in a trance and get them to do whatever they wanted — at least that's what their victims claimed when they came back to our side. The people whom they couldn't bewitch, the Lestranges tortured."

"That's terrible. I didn't know they still did that in this day and age."

"You'll be surprised how people can turn into animals — figuratively speaking, of course — just so they can become powerful."

"What happened to the Lestranges?"

"They were caught after You-Know-Who disappeared and imprisoned in Azkaban — that's the wizards' prison. It's next to impossible to get out of there, what with all the enchantments and Dementors guarding the place, but apparently people can manage to escape if they wanted it bad enough." 

"So…is there any chance of them coming here?"

Peter smiled slightly. "I don't know if they want anything that's in Hogwarts. Besides, we have Professor Dumbledore here and he's the only one You-Know-Who is afraid of. We should be safe enough."

"I hope so." 

They reached Hagrid's cabin in time to meet Susan Bones, who was just leaving. "Hello, Peter, Hex," she greeted them a little breathlessly.

"Hey, Susan," Hex replied. 

"Going to see your Fluffernutter?" All of Hagrid's classes had handled Fluffernutters that term; but of all the babies, only three or four had survived. Everyone was now working to make sure that these reached full maturity.

"Yeah. Pete here wanted to check up on him."

Susan smiled shyly at Peter, who turned red and dug his toe into the ground. "I've just been to see ours and I must tell you, Zippo is the liveliest of the lot. He'll be happy to see you."

"Thanks," Peter murmured.

She stood there and looked at them for a moment, her cheeks growing pinker by the second, and finally sighed. "Well, I guess I must be off, then. See you in class."

"See you," Hex said, waving as Susan left. When she was long gone, he poked his friend in the ribs. "You're not going to be able to take her to the dance if you don't _talk_ to her, you know."

"Give me a break," Peter mumbled. "Professor Sprout just made the announcement, after all."

Presently, Hagrid rounded the corner of his cabin with an enormous cabbage in his arms. His hairy face beamed above it. "Afternoon, you two! Come ter see yer Fluffernutter? Righ' this way, then."

The Fluffernutters were housed in an outdoor pen built near Hagrid's chimney to give them room to move around and keep them warm at the same time. At the sight of them, Zippo gave a happy snarl and came forward to have his snow-white head petted. "Bes' one of the lot, this one is," Hagrid said, pleased. "Th' bigges' an' the smartes', too."

"He's big enough for Maeve to ride," Hex chuckled, throwing Zippo the piece of sausage Hagrid had given him and watching the Fluffernutter's mighty jaws snap it up.

They fed him some more sausage and played tug-of-war with a fat piece of rope before it was time to get back to the castle. However, as they were about to leave, Hagrid called to Hex in a serious tone of voice.

Nodding for Peter to go on without him, Hex approached the huge man. "What's up?"

"I jus' thought yeh should know, son — bad times are comin'. Don' know if Dumbledore's explained it all to yeh already, but…have yeh told anyone yer real name yet?"

"No. You told me not to. So no one knows."

"Good, yeh remembered." Hagrid nodded brusquely. "It's more important now to not tell _any'un_. Don' forget!"

"I won't." Hex paused. "Hey, Hagrid…this whole name thing…it doesn't have anything to do with the Lestranges, does it? The ones who broke out of Azkaban?"

The huge man looked surprised. "How d'yeh know abou' the Lestranges?"

"I, uh, heard some of the teachers talking, that's all. Pete explained to me who they were and stuff. So…does it have anything to do with them?"

"I don' rightly know, son," Hagrid admitted. "Mebbe it does, mebbe it doesn'. All I know is one day, out of the blue, Dumbledore sent me to go get yeh. Yer here fer a _reason_, son, that much I know. But I ain't the one ter explain it all ter yeh.

"Go along, now, I 'spect yeh still have class ter attend."

****

Concluding Remarks: Well, I guess this is as good a place to pause as any, don't you? :D We've got the Yule Ball coming (with some R/H – I love R/H), and the bad guy on the loose. Who is Hex going to ask to the dance?…Hang on, we already know who – _how_ is he going to ask the lucky lady? Is Peter going to ask Susan? What's going to happen at the Yule Ball? And what is Hex doing in Hogwarts, anyway? The truth is out there… (yes, I ripped that off the _X-Files_…) ~ Ara Kane


	11. The Hex Holmstrom Karaoke Hour

****

Disclaimer: I only own Hex, Maeve, Peter, Norman, Robert, Peggy, Bridget, Samira, DJ Druid, and the unseen Kitty Haywood. I guess I also own the Eye of Muldawr, but since it doesn't exist I'm not making any money off of it; and the Chilling Charm. JK Rowling owns Hogwarts and the rest of its inhabitants. The Hex Holmstrom Karaoke Hour was inspired by Heath Ledger's song number in the teen movie _10 Things I Hate About You_. (I was supposed to use the same song, too, but changed my mind.) The song "Little Child" belongs to John Lennon and Paul McCartney, and "Pretty Woman" to Roy Orbison. Tarzan belongs to Edgar Rice Burroughs. The "Big Brother is watching" comment also does not belong to me, but I have no idea who owns it so I can't credit anyone — anyway, the point is it's not mine. Finally, the "underwear in a festival" comment in Chapter 10 was taken from the Nickelodeon show _All That_. I forgot to mention it, but was too lazy to re-post the entire chapter. On with the show!

__

The Hex Holmstrom Karaoke Hour

__

You're here for a reason. 

Hex went through the next few days with Hagrid's words throbbing in his brain. He knew there had to be something behind his acceptance into Hogwarts. The question was, what was it?

"What was it?" Hermione asked, her voice dragging him back down to earth.

"What?" he asked, snapping back to attention.

"The symbol of the agreement between the humans and the house-elves, what was it?" With his equivalency exams coming up, he and Hermione agreed to resume their tutorial sessions in the library. That afternoon, she was quizzing him on what he might need for the History of Magic exam.

"Uh…a…golden broomstick?"

"Close, but not quite. It was a golden broomstick set with the Eye of Muldawr, a ruby from the last elf jewel mine."

"Right."

She closed the massive textbook and looked at him quizzically. "Are you all right?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine. Just…thinking, I guess."

"Daydreaming, more like," Ron teased. These days, when the Gryffindor team wasn't practicing for its upcoming match against Slytherin, he hung around with them in the library with the stated intention of making sure Hex was doing his work properly. Hermione scolded him for creating a distraction — but whether he was distracting her or Hex, she refused to say. "About who you want to take to the ball?"

"Uh…" Hex figured it was better to agree than to ask about the significance of real names in the magical world. The night before, he had dreamt that he was standing in the mist, while voices asked him to tell them his name. He refused, remembering Hagrid's warning, and the voices asked him again while the mists began to wrap around him like a mummy's bandages. The more he refused, the tighter his bonds became. He had jolted awake at two in the morning, in a cold sweat and short of breath. "Yeah. That's right."

"Anyone asked you yet?" Ginny, who was sitting with them, asked with a smile.

"No, not yet." He grinned. "I guess girls are still trying to figure out if I'm escort material or not."

"Well, _I_ wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen with you."

"Uh…thanks, Ginny," Hex said, blushing under Ron's big brother glare. "When I ask someone, I'll make sure to mention that. Have you got a date already?"

"Don't you go asking her, now," Ron said. "She's holding out for—"

Presently, Harry walked up to the table in a breathless rush. His cheeks were pink, and he was grinning. "I did it!" he announced in a voice still soft enough to pass muster with Madam Pince. "I'm taking Cho to the ball!"

There was the slightest pause before Ron and Hermione smiled and congratulated him. "Good for you, dude," Hex said.

Ginny, on the other hand, had turned a mottled pink. "Um, that's great, Harry," she piped, rising abruptly and gathered her things together. "Well, if you'll excuse me…I–I have to go. Colin has my Transfiguration notes."

Hermione watched the redheaded girl leave with a concerned look on her face. "Is she OK?" Hex asked while Harry took Ginny's seat and recounted his encounter with Cho for Ron.

She nodded slowly. "She'll be all right. I suppose she was hoping Harry would…"

"Oh." 

The thought of the Christmas Dance and his upcoming exams helped to push disturbing thoughts about his name and the Lestranges to the back burner of Hex's mind. Ulric the Oddball and Wendelin the Weird were cavorting through his thoughts when he finally returned to the Hufflepuff dormitory after a late dinner. After giving the password ("Macarena"), the suit of armor jumped aside to admit Hex into the common room. 

Quite a few people were still up. Girls were chatting in one corner about what they were going to wear to the dance (assuming someone asked them), and a group of boys sat across the room, watching a chess game when they weren't sneaking looks at the girls. Peggy, Samira and Robert were huddled around a diagram of the quidditch pitch, discussing strategies for the next match against Gryffindor. Susan and some other fifth years were toasting their toes by the fire.

"Look at this, Hex," Peggy said, holding up the diagram. "I think we've found a way to get around the Weasley twins." 

"Uh, can we do that some other time, Peg?" he asked, massaging the back of his neck. "I'm up to my eyeballs in goblin rebellions and I'm still trying to digest it all."

"Oh, of course. Maybe we should wait until after your exams to discuss strategy."

"No, that's OK. Let's look it over during breakfast tomorrow, how about that?"

Peggy smiled and nodded. "All right. In the meantime, you should get some sleep."

"Yeah, I'm on my way up right now."

"Susan?"

Everyone turned to see Peter come down from the boys' dormitories, where he had holed up since after dinner. He had a resolute look on his normally placid face.

The girls around her giggled, but Susan looked gravely at him. "Yes, Peter?"

"I…" His face flamed as he realized all of Hufflepuff House was watching him. "I was wondering if you would like to go to the ball with me," he blurted out.

Susan smiled at the big boy. "I'd love to, Peter Brandegoris."

He relaxed as the entire room burst into applause. "Thank you."

"All _right_, Pete!" Hex said as he came abreast of his friend. "Congratulations!"

Peter grinned, more relaxed now that the deed was done. "Can you believe that?" he asked as some of the Hufflepuffs patted his back on their way to their dormitories. "She said yes."

"If she had said no," Maeve said as she caught up with them, "I would have held her up by the ankles and shaken some sense into her."

"She's half a foot taller than you, Maeve. If you'd held her up by the ankles, her head would have dragged on the floor."

"It's the thought that counts," she replied, shrugging good-naturedly. "Are you on your way up?" she asked Hex.

"Uh, yeah," he said. "I'm not feeling too well after that History review."

"Oh. Well, I hope you'll feel better in the morning."

"You're not going to be able to take her to the ball if you don't _talk_ to her, you know," Peter joked as Maeve skipped up the stairs. "And I know that she's waiting for you to ask her."

Hex blushed, his History-induced headache disappearing. "She is?"

"A slew of fellows asked her at dinner — Malfoy included. She said no to all of them."

"Barf-boy asked her _again_? She refused him the day before!"

"_And_ the day before that. But tonight he brought her flowers."

"I hope she laughed in his face." 

"She did hide her face in those flowers for a long time." Peter smiled patiently as Hex snickered. "I'm glad you find it funny, but tomorrow Malfoy could bring her sweets, and after that, a diamond necklace or something. How do you expect to compete with that?"

The other boy's face took on a look of steely determination as the gears in his previously overloaded brain began to turn again. "I'll think of something."

Sure enough, the next morning at breakfast, Malfoy strutted over to the Hufflepuff table with a fancy wrapped box. Maeve rolled her eyes to the sky as Susan and Hannah giggled beside her. Scenting danger, Peter got Hex's attention by throwing a piece of orange peel over to where the other boy was sitting, making last-minute repairs to Dean Thomas' electric guitar and listening to Peggy's plans to counter the Weasley twins.

Following his friend's urgently rolling eyes, Hex dropped his screwdriver and pulled out his wand. "Hey, Peg, hold that thought, will you? There's something I need to do."

Instead of scolding him for his lack of attention, she and Robert grinned. "Go for it, Hex."

Taking a deep breath, Hex tapped his throat with his wand. _"Sonorus."_

__

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Hex Holmstrom Karaoke Hour!" he announced in his magically magnified voice. Throughout the Great Hall, students jumped, startled, and craned their necks to see where the noise was coming from. 

Seeing that he had an audience, Hex jumped up onto the bench and bowed low to the crowd, who laughed and applauded. _"For my first number, I'd like to do a golden oldie by a band I'm pretty sure even you pure-bloods know. It's a nice song, one your parents probably remember. And this goes out to a really special gal…Maeve Moondaughter, this is for you."_

There was more applause as a pink-cheeked Maeve turned from Malfoy to the blond lunatic grinning down at her. The pale Slytherin frowned, tried unsuccessfully to regain Maeve's attention, then glared at Hex as he burst into song.

__

__

Little child, little child

Little child, won't you dance with me?

I'm so sad and lonely

Baby, take a chance with me…

His audience laughed and began pounding on the tables as Hex jumped off his bench and did a few hokey sixties-style dance moves on his way toward Maeve.

__

If you want someone to make you feel so fine

Then we'll have some fun when you're mine, all mine

So come on, come on, come on…

Most of the Great Hall was whooping and clapping as Hex slid to his knees in front of Maeve. _"Maeve Moondaughter, will you give me the honor of taking you to the Christmas Dance?"_

She giggled and, her face shining with merriment, nodded.

__

"Thank you. I'll pick you up at seven-thirty."

There was more laughter and applause. _"Quietus,"_ Maeve said, tapping his throat with her wand just as Professor McGonagall strode into the vast chamber, demanding an explanation for all the noise.

"I heard your voice, Holmstrom," she said in her most severe voice. "What have you done _this_ time?"

"Uh, Professor," he stammered, "I was just…we were just…"

__

Pretty woman, walking down the street

Pretty woman, the kind I'd like to meet

Pretty woman…

Professor McGonagall took her eyes off him and blushed as Justin broke into the Roy Orbison tune. Other students soon joined in, hamming it up with imaginary microphones, pointing at the teacher, and comically mimicking Orbison's trademark growl. "All right, that's enough…" she said, waving her hands around as if fanning away a zillion singing flies. "Get on with your breakfasts…it's nearly time for class…"

But her cheeks were pink and her eyes were shining when she left the Great Hall right after that.

The last day of classes before the start of the Christmas break hummed with excitement over the upcoming dance. People were talking about what they were going to wear (Lavender), whom they were going with (Parvati), or what they hoped would be on the menu (Ron). Rumor had it that Dumbledore booked DJ Druid, fresh from a successful tour of wizarding clubs throughout Europe, to provide the music. 

"I think I need to go to the bathroom again," Peter told Hex as they stood in the Hufflepuff common room, waiting for their partners to come down from the girls' dormitory. He tugged nervously at the collar of his russet-colored dress robes.

"Will you just chill?" Hex told him. "It's only a dance."

"Easy for _you_ to say — you're probably used to this sort of thing."

"Then believe me when I tell you that there is nothing to be nervous about. It's not like we're getting _married_."

Presently, Professor Sprout entered the common room, dressed for once in clean dress robes the deep violet of a Shivering Shummelflub. "My, don't you boys look nice!" she said happily. "You'll all be on your best behavior tonight, won't you?" She beamed, pleased, as they nodded. "Wonderful! Now, I must be on my way, I need to help with the last-minute preparations; I'll see you in the Great Hall!"

"Bye, Professor Sprout," Hex said as their Head of House left. He turned from the common room entranceway in time to see Susan and Maeve descending the stairs from their dormitory. He gulped.

"Wow," Peter blurted out. 

Susan, with her hair in an elaborate cascade and dressed in robes of silvery lavender, gave him a smile that could have come from Parvati Patil. "Shall we go?" Peter nodded numbly and she took the arm he offered, smiling at Hex and Maeve. "We'll see you downstairs."

"See you," Maeve replied as the pair left the room. "She looks pretty tonight, doesn't she?"

"You look pretty, too," Hex managed to say. Instead of her black school robes, Maeve was wearing dress robes of crimson silk. She had done her hair in a tiny braid on either side of her face, leaving the rest to flow loose. "I—uh, I got this for you."

Last weekend he ordered a corsage in Hereford, and Maggie had sent it by owl that afternoon. "When Muggles have dances, the guys always get the girls flowers. I, uh, put a Chilling Charm on them, so they wouldn't wilt…guess I overdid it a bit." 

Maeve smiled at the frosted red rosebuds that Hex tied around her wrist. "They're lovely. Thank you."

"So…shall we?"

Students were just starting to fill the Great Hall when Hex and Maeve arrived. "The decorations are lovely," Maeve said. A hundred Christmas trees and tall ice sculptures glittered around the room. Overhead, the enchanted ceiling depicted a velvety black sky and non-melting snowflakes hung in mid-air alongside tall white candles that bathed everything in a warm, golden glow. 

Hex grinned down at her. "You're prettier than everything put together."

They bumped into Ron and Hermione just inside the Great Hall. "Hi, Hex, Maeve," Ron, for once looking halfway decent in brand-new silvery-gray dress robes, greeted them.

"Hey, dude," Hex replied, then winked playfully at Hermione. "Looking good, Herm."

"Don't call me _Herm_," she said, but flushed with pleasure at the compliment anyway.

Just then, the Weasley twins walked by sniggering. "I'd avoid the cherry-berry punch if I were you," George whispered before moving away to join a group of their friends at a nearby table.

Hex chuckled. "Guess we're warned. Where's Harry?"

"Outside, waiting for Cho," Ron answered. He grinned shakily. "You should see him, all pale and nervous, like a—"

"Stop teasing him, Ron," Hermione ordered. "Harry's nervous because he really, really likes her."

"That must explain why _you_ look like you're about to fall apart yourself, Red," Hex teased.

"Why aren't _you_ nervous?" Ron retorted as both he and Hermione blushed.

Maeve smiled. "Believe me, he's nervous."

The boys were chuckling (nervously) when Harry showed up, looking like he'd won the lottery. "Hello, everyone," he said cheerfully, then gestured to the girl in pale blue beside him. "This is Cho Chang. Cho, this is Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Hex Holmstrom, and Maeve Moondaughter."

"Hi," Cho said softly.

"Hello, Cho," Maeve said, smiling. Hex supposed she got the whole social graces thing from growing up in Malfoy Manor. They probably dressed for dinner and everything there. "It's nice to finally be introduced."

"You look very nice," Hermione piped up.

"Thank you." Cho smiled — rather sadly, it must be admitted. "So do you."

Harry shot the girls a grateful look. "Let's go find some seats, shall we?"

"You guys go ahead," Hex told them. "Maeve and I are sitting with Pete and the others. Hey, Ron, will you tell Harry about the punch or shall I?"

"What's this—"

"Hello!" Just then, Ginny joined the group, a determined smile on her face.

"Hey," Hex greeted her. "Looking good, Ginny."

The younger girl blushed, looking down at her sunny yellow robes. "Thank you."

"Did you come by yourself?" Harry asked.

"_Harry!_" Hermione exclaimed. "What a thing to—"

"Hi! All right, everyone?" squeaked Colin Creevey, a shrimpy fourth year Gryffindor, coming up beside Ginny. "Sorry I had to disappear like that, Ginny. My shoelace came undone."

"That's alright," she told him, smiling.

"All right there, Harry?" Colin asked, looking adoringly at the other boy.

Harry's jaw dropped.

A similar look was on Hannah Abbott's face when she saw her sister enter the Great Hall on Robert's arm. "Oooh!" Susan giggled. "They make a cute couple!"

"Peggy doesn't go to things like this!" the blonde girl sputtered.

"She does now," Hex said, waving to his quidditch teammates.

"She looks very nice tonight," Maeve observed. Quite a few boys were looking at Peggy, although she had neither Hannah's blonde prettiness nor her showy figure. 

"Better than Millicent Bulstrode, that's for sure," Bridget, who was there with Justin, said as the Slytherin girl walked by with Crabbe and Goyle, all three of them in dress robes of drab green. "She had the cheek to make fun of Kitty Haywood's looks the other day, when she herself looks like — I don't know, one of Malfoy's goons."

"She may look like King Kong," Hex joked, "but she's the only girl here with two dates."

"The pair of them together can't compare with a Hufflepuff man," Justin declared. 

"Hear, hear," Ernie agreed, grinning and toasting his friend with a cup of cherry-berry punch. After taking a drink, he turned a vivid purple.

Hex laughed. "Oh, man, I forgot to tell you guys to stay away from the punch!"

"Maeve told us," Susan told him, smiling, "but Ernie was too busy reading the menu."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Peter said. "The Weasley twins' tricks usually wear off after a while."

__

"Usually," Hex emphasized with a grin.

After a sumptuous dinner, wherein the students ordered their food from the elegantly printed menus lying beside their plates, everyone rose. By waving his wand, Dumbledore moved the tables and benches aside, creating a large dance floor in the middle of the Great Hall. The candlelight dimmed and a dark-skinned wizard with a black goatee and showy purple robes began to spin records on a massive and — Hex supposed — magically powered sound system set up in one corner.

As DJ Druid played some golden oldies, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall opened the dancing with a sedate waltz. The students applauded politely as the number ended and unseen spotlights began to sweep the room with bright splashes of red, purple and blue. They whooped and hollered their approval as a faster song came on, but no one wanted to start the _real_ dancing.

"They're wasting the music," Justin complained.

"So why don't you start the dancing?" Hex asked.

"Why don't _you_?"

"Look, someone's out on the dance floor already," Susan said. The Gryffindors cheered as Fred Weasley whirled Angelina Johnson around.

Justin chuckled as he watched the pair flail about on the dance floor. "Is that dancing or a seizure?"

"And I suppose you can do better?" Bridget challenged him.

"In my sleep."

"Prove it!"

"All right, then — come on."

"Wait!" Bridget pulled her hand free. "_I'm_ not going out there!"

"Well, I've got to have _some_one to dance with, don't I?"

"Let's _all _go," Hannah said firmly, dragging Bridget to the dance floor with one hand and Ernie with the other. 

"We'll _all_ dance together?" Susan asked, bringing up the rear (Ernie had grabbed her sleeve in a desperate bid for freedom). "Can a person dance with more than one partner at a time?"

"If they can't, then it's _my_ turn to incite the Hufflepuffs to rebellion!"

Maeve looked at Hex, giggled, and scurried off to join the rest of the girls on the dance floor. Peter came up beside his friend as they watched Justin start dancing. "He's actually rather good."

"Uh-huh."

"Do we _have_ to go out there, Hex?"

"If you want a good-night kiss."

Peter was silent for a moment. "I can't dance," he finally admitted in a low voice.

"Neither can I."

"Ernie and Robert don't look like they're very good, either."

"They're dying out there." Hex chuckled. "C'mon, Pete, why don't we go look stupid together?"

The Hufflepuffs all formed one big circle on the dance floor and, once Justin had showed them a few basic moves, actually had some fun. Samira turned out to be a fairly good dancer herself, and Robert finally decided to just clown around instead of trying to do proper steps. Suddenly, Maeve whirled out into the middle of their circle, dark hair flying, a siren's smile on her face as she moved sinuously toward Hex.

"Maeve! Stop this vulgar behavior at once!" Glaring at her from outside the circle, surrounded by a gang of sneering Slytherins, was Malfoy. Maeve shot him a flippant look before turning her back on him. "At _once_, I said! Or I'm telling Father!"

"Sod off, Barf-boy," Justin said. "Don't go ruining her night just because you can't dance."

"He can so dance!" Pansy Parkinson retorted shrilly.

"Then go dance, preferably someplace else," Hex told her. "And give those two lessons — they're making me puke." He shot a wry glance at Crabbe and Goyle, who were jumping around behind Malfoy like a pair of hyperactive yaks.

Malfoy gave the sniggering Hufflepuffs one last glare before stalking away, with Pansy dragging Crabbe and Goyle in his wake. Hex watched them go, then turned back to find Maeve now standing in front of him, holding out a small hand.

"You are not dancing," she told him.

"Uh, I was just…warming up!" He chuckled weakly as she dragged him to the middle of their laughing circle, shooting a pleading glance at Peter, who was happily twirling Susan around. 

Caught up in trying to look like he knew what he was doing, Hex didn't realize the Gryffindors had infiltrated the Hufflepuff circle until he saw Justin ricochet off a slam dance with George Weasley. Angelina was trying to get a furiously blushing Ginny to join them and Hermione was similarly tugging on Ron's arm and giggling. "If you don't want to dance with me, fine," she huffed playfully. "I'll dance with Hex."

"Oh, no, you won't," Ron said, finally allowing Hermione to drag him into the fray. 

By now, Maeve had joined Angelina in the fight to convince Ginny to dance. "You won't look ridiculous," she was telling Ginny when Hex came up behind her. "Samira can teach you some steps."

"I don't have a partner," the younger girl replied. Apparently, her brothers had scared Colin away.

"We'll all be out there with you. It'll be loads of fun."

"_And_ it's the perfect chance to show Harry you're having a great time without him!" Angelina said. 

Ginny went scarlet and looked over at where Harry and Cho were sitting and watching the dancers. Every so often, Harry would glance over at Cho and smile at her, which she would return before turning back to the dance floor with a sad, faraway look on her pretty face. "She's still not over Cedric, is she?" she observed. "Poor Harry."

"It's tough being the rebound guy," Hex said, grabbing Ginny's hand. "But it's tougher still to just wait around and let all the fun pass you by. Come on, Ginny, dance with us."

The younger girl raised her chin. "You know what? You're right. I'm not going to wait for Harry anymore. Let's dance!"

"That's the spirit!" Angelina said, applauding.

"You go, girl!" Maeve cheered.

"Right on!" Hermione called out from where she was wrestling Ron into some semblance of a dance.

"Help," Hex croaked as Ginny dragged him away.

"I think you've created a monster," Fred told the girls some time later. Ever since their little pep talk, Ginny had not sat down, dancing every dance even as everyone paired off to dance to the slower songs. Only a few young couples were out on the floor, Ginny and her partner of the moment included, the rest preferring to sit around and watch.

"Nonsense," Maeve said blithely. 

"We've just allowed her to discover her inner power, that's all," Angelina said in a firm voice.

"She _has_ been dangling after Harry for ever so long," Katie Bell, George's date, said. "It's about time she stopped waiting and had some fun."

Presently, the monster stepped off the dance floor, fanning her flushed face. "All right, everyone?"

"Someone looks like she's having a good time," Hex observed with a grin.

Ginny smiled. "I am! This dance is _ever_ so much better than the Yule Ball last year."

"I'll say," Ron and Hermione agreed in unison as they danced nearby, then looked at each other and blushed.

"Where's your partner?" Fred asked his sister. 

"I expect all the glaring you've been doing has finally run him off," Angelina told him. Besides the fact that boys were lining up to ask her to dance, another reason why Ginny had so many partners was that her brothers were scaring them off with a precise combination of broad hints and subtle threats.

"Actually, Malcolm went to get some drinks," Ginny corrected.

"I hope he didn't get overheated because he was dancing too close," George said in a warning tone.

"He was _not_. If he was, then maybe _Ron_ needs to get some drinks, too."

Hex tuned out the sounds of the Weasleys ribbing each other to watch the dancers. They weren't really dancing, just holding each other and swaying. It looked easy enough. He turned to Maeve, who was smiling and watching couples spin by. "Maeve?"

She turned her smile to him. "Hmm?" 

"D'you want to dance?"

"I'd love to."

The Hufflepuffs cheered as Hex rose and Maeve gracefully took the hand he offered. She playfully blew kisses to their audience before they took to the floor.

"This is nice," she said as they danced.

He smiled down at her. "It sure is."

They swept past Harry and Cho, who were still seated and watching the dance floor. "Harry hasn't danced all night," Maeve observed, giving the Gryffindor boy a wave.

Hex arched an eyebrow. "What's it to you?"

"Nothing—oh!" All of a sudden, she lurched and lost her balance. "Oh, my!"

"What happened? What's wrong?" He held her arms steady, but she wasn't getting up. "I didn't step on your foot or something, did I?"

"No," she reassured him breathlessly. "I–I think I have a cramp."

"Maybe you should sit down for a while."

"No, it will go away soon."

"I don't want Madam Pomfrey to see me dragging you around and think I'm forcing you to dance." 

"But it's such a nice song," Maeve said wistfully as Hex guided her back to their bench.

"We'll dance to it some other time, OK? In the meantime, sit down."

"What about you?"

"I'll live."

"You shouldn't waste the music," she said as she sat down next to Ginny, whose partner never did turn up. "Why don't you dance with Ginny?"

__

"What?" he asked in disbelief as Fred and George jerked to attention.

"Just to finish out the song, at least. And make sure you dance in front of Harry." She smiled at the Weasley twins, who subsided with identical grins, and at Ginny, who blushed. 

Hex narrowed his eyes at her. "You don't _really_ have a cramp, do you?"

"No," Maeve admitted with a giggle.

He shook his head and gave a long-suffering sigh. Maeve had him wrapped around her little finger and he had no idea how he got there. And he wasn't sure if it was a bad thing at all. "All right. D'you want to dance, Ginny?"

Ginny shot Maeve a nervous, grateful look, smiled shyly at Hex, and nodded. "I'd love to."

"I have no idea how I got roped into this," Hex murmured as they took the floor to catcalls and enthusiastic applause from Fred and George.

"You did it because Maeve asked you to," Ginny said, grinning. "It's hard to believe she grew up with the Malfoys. They're not very nice."

"Well, Tarzan was raised by apes and that doesn't make _him_ an ape."

Ginny giggled. She sounded a lot like Maeve. "Are you saying that the Malfoys are apes?"

"May I cut in?" It was Harry.

"Hey, Harry," Hex said, while his partner went cold. "Where's Cho?"

"Oh, she went on up to her dormitory already," the other boy explained. If anything, he looked relieved. They probably didn't do anything except talk about Cedric Diggory all night. "She has a long trip home tomorrow. Is it all right if I dance with Ginny, then?"

Hex supposed this was what Maeve was hoping for when she faked that cramp. Maybe she'd like it if he made Harry squirm a bit. "Yeah, I guess so—if it's OK with Ginny. OK if Harry dances with you, Ginny?" he asked her.

Scarlet and tongue-tied as she always was in Harry's presence, Ginny nodded.

"OK then." Hex winked at her as he gave her over to the other boy. "Have fun—but not too much fun. Big Brother is watching." He cocked his head toward the three redheaded boys who had materialized in the immediate vicinity with their partners.

"You mean all three big brothers are watching," Harry said, finally smiling.

"Right. See you two around." Hex gave Maeve a thumbs-up as he returned to their bench but maintained a stern tone when he spoke to her. "Man, you owe me."

"Ginny looks so happy," she said as he sat down.

"She looks like she's about to have a heart attack."

"Nonsense." Maeve laughed as Ginny grinned crazily over Harry's shoulder. "See? She's happy."

"What about you?"

She smiled, warming Hex to his toes. "I'm very happy, too."

****

Concluding Remarks: Whoopee! I'm back! I hope everyone was waiting with bated breath the way they said they would ;-) Thank you for your patience. The rest of this story is definitely coming. In the meantime, please read and review! ~ Ara Kane


	12. The Equivalency Exams

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Disclaimer: I own Hex, Maeve, Peter, Norman, and Zippo the Fluffernutter. I also made up the Itching Curse, and I own Maggie McGonagall, the Healer's Garden and Tiny. JK Rowling owns the world they live in. HMV, the "New York, New York" song and the _Jaws_ movie belong to whoever makes money off them. The New York Rangers (who RULE even though they haven't made the playoffs in…a while :D) belong to themselves. Dumbledore's hat also belongs to me, but he can keep it as a Christmas present.

****

Technical Notes: I'm not sure what they call equivalency exams in Britain, so pardon my inaccuracy. I did feel they were necessary, as Hex was Muggle-educated and did not enter Hogwarts as a first year. (All other American transfers to Hogwarts, take note!)

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The Equivalency Exams

The next morning, Hex dragged himself out of bed to have breakfast with the students who were going home for the holidays. "Aren't you going home?" Peter asked as Hex helped him haul his trunk downstairs. The big boy was going to spend Christmas at his family's farm somewhere in Wales.

"No, I'm working." They set the trunk down in the corridor outside the Great Hall, where other students were waiting to leave. Hex chuckled. "I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to wake up today, since we got in late last night and everything."

Peter smiled. "It was a good party, wasn't it?"

"Yep. Did Susan have fun?"

"She said she did."

"Did she kiss you good night?" Hex grinned when his friend turned red. "Congratulations. She's a real nice girl."

"Yes, she is." Peter watched as students began to file toward the main doors. "Time to leave."

"Yeah. Take care now, OK?"

"You, too." They shook hands. "Good luck on your exams."

"Thanks. See you in the New Year."

The Healer's Garden was rather busy in the days leading up to Christmas. Aside from people doing their holiday shopping, there were also quite a few buying Maggie's special cold-weather tea and throat lozenges. "These lozenges are ever so much better than the kind I buy at the chemist's," a well-dressed woman said as she purchased a packet. "The day after I take one, my sore throat is gone. It's like magic!"

"It's all in the herbs, ma'am," Hex said, grinning and handing over the woman's purchase in a recycled-paper sack. "Here you go. Merry Christmas."

"And a Happy Christmas to you, too, young man." She smiled and nodded, then stepped out into the crisp winter morning, leaving Hex to do some more reviewing for his equivalency exams, which were coming up in a few days.

The tinkling of the little bell over the shop door had him looking up from his Potions text, but it was only Maggie, back from her errands. "Anyone buy anything while I was gone?"

"We're almost out of the throat lozenges," Hex reported. "What do you put in there, anyway?"

"It's a slower-acting version of Madam Pomfrey's Pepperup Potion. I didn't think it would be good to copy it exactly, because it cures colds instantly. The Muggles will ask questions." She looked at him as she opened a cabinet to refresh their stock of lozenges. "How is the studying going?"

Hex shrugged. "OK." The truth was he wasn't feeling particularly prepared, but if he admitted that, Maggie would tell him he wasn't reviewing enough, and he wasn't sure if his brain could work any harder. 

"Well, don't overwork yourself," Maggie said. "We don't want you forgetting everything you've learned on the day of the exams, do we?"

"I've been reviewing for the past month," he said, flipping through the formula for a Fireproofing Potion. "I guess I'm just making sure I haven't missed anything."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine." His boss winked at him. "Between you, me and the lamppost, Minerva says you've done very well so far. It's not easy learning new lessons and the basics at the same time."

"Professor McGonagall said that?" He grinned. "That makes me feel a lot better, Maggie. Thanks."

Maggie dimpled. "No charge. Now, I want you to keep this safe in your book, and give it to my sister or to Dumbledore when you get back." It was another sealed envelope. "Don't give it to anyone else! And don't let anyone see you with it!"

Hex took the envelope and stuck it between the pages of his Potions book, which then refused to close. Maggie's envelopes had gotten thicker in the recent weeks. In fact, he noted privately, they had gotten thicker after the news about the Lestranges broke out. "I know the drill."

On December 23rd, Hex took the day off work to take a series of tests covering the first to fourth year curricula. There were monumental essays for Astronomy, Herbology and History of Magic, and a long list of equations for Arithmancy. For Transfiguration, he was required to make a series of objects take on more and more complex forms. It was hard to ignore Professor McGonagall's penetrating stare, but Hex managed to focus on the tasks at hand. "Very good, Holmstrom," she said as he successfully turned a chair into a swan. "Professor Dumbledore will be happy to know that we haven't put our faith in you for nothing."

Hex grinned. It was the first time he ever had seen her smile. "Thanks, Professor."

She nodded regally. "You may go on to your next exam."

In Charms, Professor Flitwick had him demonstrate levitation. "Excellent, Mr. Holmstrom!" the tiny professor squeaked as Hex slowly lowered a small cauldron back to the floor. "Now, shall we try this one?"

He went on to try and make a board full of chess pieces dance and sing. It took a few attempts before they formed a chorus line. "Well done!" Professor Flitwick said as the chess pieces filed past him singing "New York, New York." "See what happens when you are in the correct state of mind?"

"Yes, sir, I sure do."

The last part of Hex's Charms exam was to put a Cheering Charm on Filch the caretaker, who had been coerced into acting as the guinea pig. "I don't want to feel cheerful!" Filch snarled. 

"Now, now, Argus, it will only last a while," Professor Flitwick assured him. "If Mr. Holmstrom here manages to cheer _you_ up, then we'll know for sure that he can do it, won't we?"

"Do you promise to lift the spell as soon as you see that it works?" 

"Of course," the professor said a little too smoothly. "Mr. Holmstrom, you may proceed."

Hex took a deep breath, willed himself to relax, and said _"Jovialus!"_

There was a heart-stopping pause before Filch began to smile. "Oh, this is disgusting," he said in a singsong voice. "I feel revoltingly warm and happy inside!"

"He's not faking it, is he?" Hex asked the teacher.

Professor Flitwick smiled and shook his head. "Mr. Filch doesn't know how to pretend that he's happy. Congratulations, Mr. Holmstrom! You did it!"

By now, Filch was starting to laugh. "This is terrible! I can't stop laughing! Make it stop, Professor! Make it stop!"

"I think," the professor said conspiratorially to Hex, "that we'll keep him this way for a while."

For Care of Magical Creatures, Hex was given different types of food, and he had to match a certain creature to each kind of food. He quickly eliminated the sausages by feeding them to Zippo, who snarled in recognition; and thought of bringing all the remaining options to each animal in turn, and feeding them the food that they went for. (It was just his luck that all the magical creatures in this exam were very picky eaters.)

Hex found himself in a quandary when he was left with shredded lettuce and sugar cubes, and he still had to feed a flobberworm and a unicorn that wouldn't go near him. (Professor Grubbly-Plank, the substitute called in to take Hagrid's place while he was away on business for Dumbledore, said it was only to be expected, since unicorns preferred a female's touch — Hex suspected she was also a bit of a man-hater.) He'd never seen either one before he came to Hogwarts, but remembered that horses were given sugar cubes as treats. 

"Very good, Mr. Holmstrom," Professor Grubbly-Plank said as the unicorn went for the sugar cubes Hex left in its pen and he fed the lettuce to the flobberworm. "Full marks. Not everyone would have thought of offering all the food to each creature in turn. You may go on to your next exam."

Hex's last two exams were in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Snape must have done that on purpose, he thought wryly as he made his way to the Potions dungeon. The professor probably figured Hex would be too tired or nervous to concentrate, and he would fail easily. "I hope he isn't right," he muttered as he entered the room where Professor Snape awaited him.

"For your Potions examination, you have two hours to _correctly_ mix up these potions," Snape told Hex, eyes glittering maliciously as he handed him a list of five very complex concoctions. "I will give you your Defense examination _only_ if you _pass_ the Potions examination."

__

Great, Hex thought as he took the list, looked it over and got to work assembling ingredients. Just like the Transfiguration exam, it was difficult to concentrate with Snape stalking around and staring, but Hex willed himself to focus on preparing his ingredients, prioritizing the ones that needed to be brewed for a long time. While preparing the others, he kept an eye on the cauldrons already on the fire in order to add the correct ingredients at the correct times. He was done precisely at the two-hour mark.

Hex stood silently as Snape scrutinized each potion. "All right, Holmstrom, you managed to squeak by," he said finally. "Now take a seat and begin your Defense essay. You have one hour."

The essay was easy enough, being on the various dark creatures and how one could overcome them. Hex finished it before his time was up.

The professor smiled evilly as he took the roll of parchment. "Thought that was it, did you? Sorry to disappoint you, Holmstrom, but the examination is not over yet. Draw your wand."

Hex swore he could hear the _Jaws_ theme song playing in his head as he followed Snape to the front of the chamber, his wand at the ready. He'd practiced dueling with Hermione and Harry (who was pretty good), but facing a fully-grown wizard was something else.

They faced each other and nodded curtly in deference to etiquette. "Not to worry, Holmstrom," Snape drawled. "I'll try not to kill you."

"Cool," Hex said, staring at his teacher. He figured the trash talking was part of the dueling, but he was too busy reviewing curses and counter-curses to think of any good comebacks. 

All of a sudden, a jet of red light shot out of Snape's wand and Hex ducked to avoid being hit by the curse. It hit the wall instead. "You won't win any duels that way, Holmstrom," the professor snapped. "Pay attention next time. _Furnunculus!_"

Again, Hex dove to the floor to avoid the curse. 

"Holmstrom! Stop taking the coward's way out! Stand and fight!"

__

"Expelliarmus!" they yelled in unison.

"Better," Snape said as his wand flew out of his hand and he caught Hex's at the same time. "But you forget, a wizard will never get the same results with another's wand."

Where had he heard that before? Hex racked his brain and grinned as he remembered what Mr. Ollivander had told him. "According to Mr. Ollivander, I'm an exception to the rule. _Rashora!_" he said, waving Snape's wand. 

Almost instantly, Professor Snape began scratching as the curse brought about an uncontrollable itch all over his body. _"Serpensortia!"_

Hex watched as a garter snake sprang from the wand in Snape's hand. "I can see what you mean about the different wand, different results thing."

__

"Stop that babbling and put and end to this itching!"

"Right. Sorry. _Finite Incantatem._" Hex warily watched the teacher as he stopped scratching and they returned each other's wands. 

Snape straightened his robes and made the small snake vanish. "That was an adequate strategy," he admitted grudgingly. "Curses such as the Itching Curse can distract an opponent long enough for you to disarm him. Stop staring at me, Holmstrom. The examination is over."

Maeve was waiting outside the dungeons with Hermione, Harry and the Weasleys when Hex was dismissed. "How did it go?" she asked him.

"Fine," Hex said as they walked down the corridor, "even though I got a little stuck in Charms."

"What about Snape's exams?" Ron asked. "What did he make you do?"

"He gave me two hours to make five potions at the same time."

"That slimy git! No one can do that!"

"Well, it looks like I did. He said he wouldn't give me the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam if I didn't pass Potions, and I took it."

"What did you do for the Defense exam?" Harry asked.

"I wrote an essay, and then we dueled."

"You _what_?" Ginny gasped.

__

"Cool!" the Weasley twins chorused. "If we knew he was going to let us do that sort of thing, we should have asked Dumbledore to make him the Defense Against the Dark Arts master much sooner!" 

"I don't think that's _allowed_!" Hermione told them.

"We had that dueling club back in second year, remember?" Ron reminded her.

"That was students dueling against each other. Hex dueled against a _teacher_!"

"What did you do in the duel?" George asked. 

"I hope you got him good!" Fred said with relish.

"Uh, well, he tried to curse me a couple of times, but I kept ducking," Hex admitted. "Then we disarmed each other, so we switched wands, and I put an Itching Curse on him."

"And it worked?"

"Yep." He grinned as they all laughed, probably picturing Snape scrubbing his back against a stone pillar like a cat with a scratching post.

"I'm proud of you, son," Fred told him. The Weasley twins had taught Hex the Itching Curse.

"This is a truly great day," George agreed, pretending to wipe away a tear.

"You used _Snape's_ wand to put the curse on him?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "I thought wizards don't get the same results with—"

"Hex can use any wand and his spells will always work perfectly," Maeve told her. "That's what Mr. Ollivander told him."

"Fascinating! Not that many people can do that, you know."

"I suppose you found that out by reading _Hogwarts, A History_," Ron teased.

"No, actually, it was from _The Advanced Magical Anatomy_."

"Do you think you passed?" Ginny asked Hex.

"I hope so," he said. "McGonagall said they'd talk about it tomorrow and let me know on the 25th."

"Well, it's all out of your control now," George said. "Best not to worry about it anymore."

"That's right," Fred agreed. "How about a snowball fight in the courtyard? Last one out's a rotten dragon's egg!"

Hex awoke on Christmas morning to the sound of crackling paper. "Merry Christmas, Norman," he mumbled sleepily, as all of the other fifth year boys went home for the holidays. The cat mewed briefly, and continued to claw at the pile of presents at the foot of his bed. 

"Hey, those are mine," Hex laughed as he watched Norman tug at the ribbon on a neatly wrapped package. Norman hissed, mewed loudly, and went back to the present.

"OK, OK, let's see what we got," he told the cat, picking it up.

The package was from Maeve and contained a handsome quill and elegant silver inkpot, as well as a catnip mouse for Norman. "No wonder you wanted me to open that first," he chuckled as the cat ran off with his present in his mouth.

Peter had given him a pocketknife with all kinds of interesting blades and tools, and Maggie a new school bag. A travel-rumpled package from Tiny contained a New York Rangers home jersey, and another from Hagrid yielded a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Hex also received a yellow Hufflepuff hat, with his name embroidered on the back, from Samira; a gift check good for one CD at HMV from Justin; and a blue sweater from Mrs. Weasley, perhaps in apology for the surprise visit from Ron's father.

Hex found Maeve in the common room, reading by the fire with Norman in her lap. "Hey," he greeted her. "Merry Christmas."

She smiled at him. "Merry Christmas," she replied. 

"Nice shirt."

"Thank you." She was wearing his Christmas present to her, a pink T-shirt with angels painted on the front. "I really like it."

"Thanks for the quill and inkpot. And Norman says thank you for the mouse."

"You're very welcome. Did Samira give you a hat, too?"

"Yeah. I guess she got one for everyone on the team."

"It was very nice of her."

"Yeah. So…" He looked around. Only a handful of Hufflepuffs were staying in Hogwarts for the holidays, and it looked like most of them were already downstairs. "Want to go have breakfast?"

"All right."

"Nice jumper!" Fred Weasley chortled as Hex entered the Great Hall for Christmas dinner that night.

"Thanks," Hex replied, grinning, although he wasn't exactly sure what a "jumper" was. He supposed Fred meant the sweater. Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys were all wearing sweaters remarkably like his. "It was real nice of your mom to make me one."

"It was the least she could do after Ron nearly had you arrested."

"Shut up, Fred," his brother muttered, turning red as everyone laughed.

Everyone sat at a single table, enabling the teachers to dine with the few students staying in Hogwarts over the holidays. However, this did not mean that the feast was any less extravagant. There were several roast geese, sides of beef _and_ legs of lamb, each dish accompanied by all the appropriate trimmings, and an array of rich desserts. Hex's first-ever British Christmas cracker emitted a foghorn blast, engulfed him in grape-scented purple smoke, and spat a garish jester's hat and set of glittering musical jacks onto his lap.

Dumbledore sat at the head of the table, a furry baby-blue bowler hat on his head, and beamed as everyone did justice to the banquet provided. "Ah…I do love a good leg of lamb," he said, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin as the remains of the chocolate mousse faded from everyone's plates. "I trust everyone ate to their heart's content?"

He smiled as Ron groaned assent, patting his full stomach. "I see Mr. Weasley did. Well, before we return to our dormitories, a few announcements.

"First, I am very pleased to announce that Mr. Hex Holmstrom passed his equivalency examinations with flying colors…"

"You did it!" Maeve whispered to Hex, beaming as the other students applauded and patted his back in congratulations. From across the table, Dumbledore smiled benignly and raised his goblet while Hagrid, who had returned to Hogwarts just that afternoon, whooped and banged his on the table, sloshing wine over the rim. Professor Sprout clapped her hands delightedly and, unable to contain herself, walked over and gave him a hug. Snape stared stonily into his goblet. Hex supposed that Snape either was not pleased, or that was as close as he came to looking happy.

"For this remarkable achievement," Dumbledore continued, "Mr. Holmstrom wins seventy points for Hufflepuff House." He smiled as the Hufflepuffs at the table cheered and treated Hex to a few more back slaps. "And for ably meeting the challenge of tutoring Mr. Holmstrom, I award fifty points to Miss Hermione Granger."

"Only fifty?" Ron said as the Gryffindors congratulated a blushing Hermione. "She did all the work!"

"_He_ took the examinations," Maeve reminded him, arching a warning eyebrow.

"Uh, right," he agreed quickly. "I forgot."

Hex grinned. He supposed Ron was thinking back to Halloween night and wondering what he ever saw in Maeve. "Wait 'til I tell Tiny I can stay at Hogwarts!" he said, by way of changing the subject. 

"Who is Tiny?" Ginny asked

"My boss back home. He was always after me to study and behave and stuff."

"I'm sure he'll be very pleased," Hermione said, flushed with her success as a tutor and the points she had won for her house. "Do you see what kind of things you can achieve when you apply yourself?"

"That's exactly what Tiny would say."

****

Concluding Remarks: Up next, the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match! In the meantime, please read and review! ~ Ara Kane


	13. Dementor On the Loose

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Disclaimer: I only own Hex, Maeve, Peter, Maggie McGonagall and the rest of the Hufflepuff quidditch team. JK Rowling owns Hogwarts and everyone else in this fic. She also owns Dementors, Chocolate Frogs, and the Lestranges. Dr. Frankenstein and his creation belong to Mary Shelley, while the idea about the tuba belongs (as always) to Gordon Korman. Jell-O and Jose Cuervo belong to whoever lays claim to the names. The point is I do not :D The part about the Jose Cuervo was inspired by my friend **liquidhigh** – thanks, hun :D (But the part about throwing up is purely my own.)

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Dementor on the Loose

With the equivalency exams out of the way, Hex was now able to focus on preparing for the upcoming Gryffindor-Hufflepuff quidditch match. The Hufflepuffs had already seen the Gryffindor team in action against Slytherin before the Christmas break, so it was now known that Dean Thomas was the new Keeper and Ron Weasley the new Chaser. And Hex now knew why Gryffindor was one of the teams to beat. 

"They're so good it's scary," Justin said in a low voice one Sunday afternoon in the common room as the fifth years enjoyed a pizza Hex had brought back from Herefordshire. "Even their commentator is better." Lee Jordan did commentary for Gryffindor and was known for his highly entertaining style.

"You know, Justin," Ernie said, in a jocular tone, "when you believe too much in things like that, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy."

"It sounds to me like Hex has finally succeeded in corrupting Ernie," Hannah observed with a smile.

"Well, it's _true_," Maeve told them. "We must stop thinking like losers if we're going to win."

"It sounds to me like Hex has finally succeeded in corrupting you, too, Maeve," Robert chuckled. "You're starting to sound just like him."

"You're saying it like it's a bad thing," Hex protested.

"It isn't," Peter said loyally. Susan, seated next to him, smiled and patted his shoulder.

"Thanks, Pete. Anyway, Justin, Ernie's right. Don't let Lee's rep get you down. He may be older and people may think he's cooler, but you're Muggle-born so you have a different take on things. And you're faster, so if he's out-talking you, just break his nose and run away."

__

"Hex!" A shocked giggle from Maeve. "That's not very nice."

"Hex is right about the Muggle-born part, though," Hannah said. "I heard some of the first years talking, Justin, and one of them said your commentary made it easier for him to understand and enjoy the game. Quidditch is very interesting in itself, but when a Muggle-born talks about it, it helps other Muggle-borns make the game their own, too, you know?" She bit her lip, looking at her friend's bowed head, and shrugged in an _I-did-my-best_ sort of way.

"You know what?" Justin asked, running a hand through his curly hair and looking up at all of them, "You're right. Lee's cool and he's funny, but I have an added perspective because I'm Muggle-born."

"And who says Lee's the only cool and funny quidditch commentator in Hogwarts?" Ernie piped up. "I mean…most of your jokes are Muggle jokes, but the Muggle-borns really enjoy them."

"Think about it, Justin," Hex said, "you're the _Muggles' voice_ here at Hogwarts. The only other person who does commentary here is Lee Jordan, and he's a pureblood. But there are lots of Muggles studying here, too. We need someone to speak for us, man. We need _you_."

The other boy finally grinned. "I never thought of it that way. Thanks, you guys."

"That takes care of him," Robert murmured to Hex as Justin helped himself to more pizza. "Now what about the rest of us?"

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to another exciting quidditch match!" Lee Jordan said into the magical megaphone on the morning of the big day. "Today, the first-place Gryffindor team faces the upstart Hufflepuffs!"

"We're upstarts, all right, and don't you forget it," Justin said. "Good morning, folks, this is Justin 'the Muggle Mouth' Finch-Fletchley and Lee Jordan doing commentary for this match, Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff — the _Saturday Morning Showdown_!"

"Why do you have a nickname and I don't?" Lee complained.

"Make one up, then. How about 'the Gabbling Gryffindor'?"

The other boy pondered this, then nodded approvingly. "I like it."

"Will the pair of you please get back to calling the match?" Professor McGonagall said, making a grab for the megaphone.

"Yes, Professor," they said together, moving out of her reach.

She sighed and sat back down. Jordan and Finch-Fletchley were a handful individually; together, she supposed they would give her a headache. She looked over at her sister, who was seated between her and Professor Sprout. "Don't you ever go to work, Margaret?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Certainly, Minnie," Maggie said cheerfully. (A/N: Hahahaha! _Minnie!_ Hahaha…OK, I'm done.) "But I deserve a day off now and then, don't I?" She dimpled fetchingly as the professor's lips thinned. "And I do enjoy a good quidditch match."

"Who are you cheering for?" 

"Now, Minerva," Professor Sprout broke in kindly, "we're not supposed to be taking sides now, remember?"

Maggie startled them both by cheering loudly as Lee Jordan introduced the Gryffindor team. _"I give you — Thomas! Bell! Johnson! Weasley! Weasley! Weasley! And — Potter! The Gryffindor quidditch team!"_

Seven scarlet-robed players took the field and the Gryffindors roared. Down in their tunnel, the Hufflepuff team looked at each other and smiled nervously. "It'll be all right," Samira said unconvincingly. "We'll do just fine."

"Maeve, please don't go jumping off your broom again," Robert begged. Everyone else laughed weakly.

"She'll think of another way to give us all heart attacks," Hex said wryly as the stomping began and the four-man tuba began to blow. _"And now,"_ Justin intoned as a great cheer arose from the Hufflepuff stand, _"may I present to you — Padgett!"_

Robert mounted his broomstick, wished the others luck and took to the air, followed by the rest of the team as Justin announced the arrivals of _"Sabo! Houlihan! Derwent! Abbott! Holmstrom! Aaaaaand — Moondaughter! Ladies and gentlemen, the Yellow and Black Attack — your Hufflepuff quidditch team!"_

The Hufflepuff stands were a seething mass of yellow and black as students waved scarves, banners and signs. Hex caught sight of one that read "Holmstrom 3:16" before taking his place.

"I want a good, clean match," Madam Hooch reminded both teams. "Moondaughter, stay on your broomstick! Captains, shake hands!" Samira shook hands with Gryffindor captain Angelina Johnson. The quidditch balls were released. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and threw the Quaffle into the air. "Gryffindor takes first possession of the Quaffle," Lee reported, "but Abbott is ready with a Bludger—Hufflepuff now in possession."

"_Aaaand_ Derwent is pelting toward the Gryffindor goal!" Justin announced. "The speediest Chaser on the Hufflepuff team—catch him if you can! Sorry, Weasley, _you_ couldn't catch him—_watch out!_ Narrow miss by a Bludger back there, but Holmstrom had Derwent's back…Tim's approaching the Gryffindor goal and rookie Keeper Dean Thomas…ooh, little fake-out there—Derwent shoots—_he scores!!!_ 10-zip, Hufflepuff!" He whooped happily. "FYI, ladies and gentlemen, Hogwarts statistics show that 80% of all quidditch matches are won by the team that scores the first goal! How about that?"

"We're supposed to be unbiased and objective!" Lee told him as the tuba blew.

"Oh, like _you're_ unbiased and objective?" Justin laughed. "Why don't I root for Hufflepuff and you root for Gryffindor? That way, we'll be cancel each other out and it'll still be fair."

The other boy laughed. "I like the way you think."

Professor McGonagall groaned.

While Lee and Justin were having a fine time giving the Professor a headache, Katie Bell had taken possession of the Quaffle for Gryffindor. She was pretty fast herself, dodging the Bludgers as she pelted toward the other end of the pitch, until a Hufflepuff Chaser checked her.

"Katie Bell surrenders the Quaffle to Chaser Bridget Houlihan!" Justin exclaimed. "Did you see that, folks? Ladies and gentlemen, Bridget Houlihan is small but terrible!"

"Hey!" Bridget protested as she passed the Quaffle to Samira.

"It was a _compliment_! Get back to the game!"

Hufflepuff was leading 30-0 before Angelina scored the first goal for Gryffindor. "And Angelina Johnson puts Gryffindor on the board! All right, Angelina!" Lee cheered. "Gryffindor is down now by only two goals…"

"Dean Thomas has done very well in his first season as Keeper," Justin said. "I suppose his soccer experience has prepared him for the job."

"Why, thank you, Justin. And the Hufflepuff team has exceeded everyone's expectations."

"Thank you, Lee. Let's congratulate Dr. Samira Frankenstein for creating a quidditch monster!"

"Jordan! Finch-Fletchley!" Professor McGonagall barked. "Are you forming a mutual admiration society or calling the match?"

"We're being unbiased and objective, Professor!" Lee protested.

"They're also being highly entertaining," Maggie said, smiling at the pair. "Carry on, boys."

There was nothing to call, however, as Hufflepuff took a time-out. "Can you believe it?" Peggy breathed, exhilarated. "We're leading _Gryffindor_!"

"Let's not get too confident," Samira cautioned. "This game is far from over. Chasers, good job against Dean Thomas. But he's catching on to us, we need to think of new ways to get past him. Beaters, good idea to stay close to the Bludgers. Continue to get in the other team's way. All right there, Robert? Maeve?"

"Just fine," Robert replied.

"I haven't seen the Snitch yet," Maeve said.

"There's no hurry. What's important is that you get it first." She grinned. "I have a good feeling about this game."

Unlike the Ravenclaws, known for their methodical style of play, the Gryffindors had the uncanny ability of knowing just where their teammates were, making their maneuvers infinitely more dangerous. One had to be very fast, extremely unorthodox, or both, to upset the balance. The Hufflepuffs found themselves in all sorts of situations in their attempts to discombobulate their opponents. 

"Are you crazy?" Maeve exclaimed after Hex shot up from below to intercept the Quaffle meant for Ron and knock it toward Samira. "He almost ran you over!"

"And _you _almost jumped off your broomstick again to take the Quaffle," he retorted, grinning. "Don't think I didn't see you!"

"And the score is 50-20 in favor of Hufflepuff," Justin announced happily as the tuba blew again, "with a goal by Samira Sabo! Making the assist was Beater Hex Holmstrom, who came to us just this year from America and has already turned Hufflepuff quidditch topsy-turvy with his innovative style of play! He has worked well with Peggy Abbott, forming a solid Beater pairing rivaling — dare I say it? — the Weasley twins!"

"No one comes close to the Weasley twins, Justin," Lee declared.

"Well, you have to admit that Abbott and Holmstrom have certainly given them a run for their money this morning! Back to the game now, ladies and gentlemen…"

"Ron Weasley has possession of the Quaffle," Lee reported. "Young Mr. Weasley is the new Chaser replacing Alicia Spinnet, and is responsible for the second Gryffindor goal…he dodges _two_ Bludgers, ladies and gentlemen! _And_ he gets past Bridget Houlihan! Gryffindor made a fine choice in Mr. Weasley …he's speeding toward the Hufflepuff goal, where Keeper Padgett is awaiting him…"

Hex had only half an ear on Lee's commentary as he raced to catch Ron up. He was speeding to the other boy's side when a sudden chill gripped him, numbing his limbs. _What's this_? Hex thought frantically as the heaviness spread into his torso. He was slowing down. It was as if he was riding his broomstick through Jell-O.

He came abreast of Ron, who had stopped and was pointing down at the ground, the Quaffle forgotten under his other arm. The other boy was saying something, but the roaring in Hex's ears made it difficult to hear anything.

No one seemed to be interested in the Quaffle. Everyone was riveted on the dark, hooded figure standing in the middle of the pitch and looking up at them. The unbearable cold seemed to be coming from it, whatever it was.

Hex watched Harry draw his wand and send a strange silver shape toward the figure, driving it away. Once it was gone, Hex's head cleared and the feeling began to return to his body.

He heard screaming coming from the stands, where a stampede was dangerously imminent, and teachers and prefects calling for order. Madam Hooch's whistle was blowing and Professor McGonagall was ordering the students to go immediately to their dormitories. 

"What the hell was that?" Hex asked as he landed beside George Weasley. He saw Professors Snape and Dumbledore set off in the direction where the creature had gone.

"A Dementor," George replied weakly. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Is the game over, then? Did we win?"

"No," Madam Hooch informed him. Overhead, Lee was announcing that the match was being called off. "This match is postponed until further notice."

Hex and George joined their teams outside the changing rooms under the bleachers. Everyone looked pale and shaken, nibbling weakly at the chocolate Madam Pomfrey pressed upon them. Everyone, that is, except Maeve, who had vindictively snapped the head off her Chocolate Frog. _She_ looked pissed.

Hermione and Ginny appeared on the scene, followed by Professor McGonagall. "Are you all right?" Ginny asked Harry breathlessly.

"I didn't pass out this time," he replied, managing a grin and squeezing her hand reassuringly. 

"How d'you reckon one of _those_ got back here?" Ron asked, too preoccupied with the Dementor to notice what transpired between his sister and best friend.

"I'd rather not consider the possibilities," Peggy told him.

"The presence of that Dementor is a sign that there is danger close by," Professor McGonagall said grimly, "and remember, the Lestranges remain at large."

"Do you mean they're _here_, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"No, I do not mean that they are in Hogwarts; but even if they were, it is none of your concern." The teacher swept her penetrating gaze over the group still standing outside the locker rooms. "Return to your dormitories immediately. If I see anyone still in quidditch robes after half an hour, I will take points off their house. _That will be all_," she said finally, ignoring the protests from the players.

"Nasty old bat," Maeve muttered after the professor had left them.

"It's all for the best, Maeve," Bridget said shakily. "There's going to be a rematch, Madam Hooch promised…"

The other girl sank into a stony silence. The look on her face was dangerously close to the one she wore when she stormed Dumbledore's office last Halloween.

Hex turned to his teammates. "You guys go ahead," he said in a low voice. "Come on, Maeve, let's take a walk. I'm all wound up after that whole Dementor thing and _need to calm down_." He emphasized these last words carefully, hoping she got his meaning.

"But you're still in your quidditch things," Peggy pointed out. "If Professor McGonagall sees you—"

"I'll make something up." Hex handed their broomsticks to Robert. "We'll see you guys in the dorm. Hey, Maeve, wait up!" 

He followed her into a side courtyard that looked like it hadn't been used in a long time. "Are you OK?" Hex asked.

"I'm all right," Maeve replied curtly, kicking at a rock. "I'm just very, very annoyed."

He chuckled, trying to ease her mood. "If that's annoyed, I'd hate to see you when you're really mad."

"That _stupid_ Dementor." She stepped onto a dried-up fountain and walked nimbly along the edge. "I hope Professor Dumbledore blows it to pieces."

Standing on the fountain made her slightly taller than he was. "Is the Dementor _all _you're mad about?"

__

"Of course not." Maeve shot him the "you're-so-dense" look that was the specialty of all girls with PMS. "Couldn't you read that scoreboard? We were _winning_! Then that Dementor had to come out and ruin everything!" She glared at him. _"Stop smiling!"_

"Sorry." Hex didn't stop smiling. "I was just thinking about how I should have let you blow your top in front of everyone."

"How is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Oh, man, Robert was right — you _are_ starting to sound like me. Take a good look at yourself, Maeve. You're acting like a spoiled brat."

"How nice of you to say so," she said, her gold-green eyes as acid as her tone.

"Later on, you're going to be really embarrassed about your behavior. Don't worry, I'll let you live it down in about a month or so."

"It's not funny! Hufflepuff House hardly wins anything and we were leading _Gryffindor_! If we'd won that game we—_mmph._"

With an impatient little sigh and a roll of his eyes, Hex gave up on trying to talk any sense into Maeve and kissed her. He wasn't sure why he did it. Maybe he wanted to distract Maeve out of her funk, or shut her up, or something productive like that. Or maybe he just wanted to, period, and this was as good a time as any.

He felt the jolt all the way to his toes. Kissing her felt a lot like downing a shot of Jose Cuervo (before throwing up). Even after quidditch, she still smelled like baby powder.

Startled off-balance, Maeve threw her arms around his neck and froze for a heart-stopping moment. But instead of kissing him back as he expected, she began to laugh. "Oh, my," she gasped, "I'm sorry— "

Well, at least she had her arms around him, Hex thought as she buried her face in his shoulder, laughing herself silly. He waited until Maeve's giggles died away. "Oh, Hex…" she sighed, her voice muffled. "I'm sorry. I got nervous."

"About the game?"

"No," she replied in a small voice, "about this. But I'm sorry about the game, too."

"So I guess you've calmed down now?"

"Yes. And I am so embarrassed I could _die_."

He grinned. "You're beautiful when you're angry." 

"I've never screamed like that before."

Malfoy's parents probably forced her to be a perfect little lady all the time, while he dipped her hair in ink or something like that. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

Another little giggle. "Yes, it does."

Hex waited for Maeve to regain her composure, but she was still holding on to him and keeping her face hidden, which was just fine by him. 

"Hex?"

"Hmm?"

"Could you kiss me again? I promise I won't laugh this time."

She tried not to, anyway.

****

Concluding Remarks: Well, the match got postponed but we still had a little action…**blushes** Don't worry, they won't be snogging all over the rest of this fic.

Now, what was a Dementor doing in Hogwarts? We shall see in the next chapter! (I really enjoyed writing that one. Hope you'll enjoy reading it, once it's up!)


	14. Crucio

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Disclaimer: I only own Hex, Maeve, Peter, Robert and the Turkish Tramplooses. JK Rowling owns the rest of Hogwarts, the Lestranges (but I made up their first names), and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Barbra Streisand belongs to herself. I don't know if there is such a thing as Cottleston pie, but a recipe for it appears in pages 70-71 of the _Winnie the Pooh Cookbook_ by Virginia H. Ellison (Dell Publishing, 1969).

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Technical Notes: To all Barbra fans out there, please see the Technical Notes for Chapter 9. If you don't want to, please read my lips: _Ms. Streisand is not a witch_. 

****

Author's Notes: Thanks to Chad-Catsmeat for the rockin' reviews! :D Please, please update "The Magical Band" soon! 

__

Crucio

The Dementor episode tightened security around Hogwarts considerably. The Hogsmeade weekend was cancelled. Students were ordered to stay in the castle and were accompanied to their classes by teachers or prefects. "I would appreciate it if we got to your next class by tomorrow," Snape told the Hufflepuffs acidly one morning as he walked them to Charms.

"Someone's in a hurry," Hex murmured to Peter.

"You'd be in a bad mood, too, if you were up all night keeping watch," the big boy replied.

"Step lively, Holmstrom, Brandegoris," Snape ordered. "If you devoted as much energy to walking as you did to talking, we would be making more progress."

"I feel like I'm in prison," Hex muttered. A teacher always had to accompany him to the practice field so he could use the Portkey and get to Maggie's, and he had to be back exactly at five because another would be waiting to take him back to the castle. Hex wondered why they weren't being watched while they were in the bathroom. People were always most vulnerable in there. Then he had the most unsettling thought that maybe they _were_ being watched in the bathroom, through some kind of wizard closed circuit TV or something.

Maeve smiled as he and Peter caught up with her. Hex grinned back as her small hand stole into his. The one good thing about the tighter security was that he got to hang around her more often. She didn't seem to mind.

Someone else did, though. "Father isn't too happy that you've taken up with this Mudblood, Maeve," Malfoy said darkly, glowering as they passed the Slytherin table.

"Why should you care?" Hex retorted. "I thought Maeve wasn't royal enough for you."

"And _I_ thought you knew that she is in my father's custody until she comes of age. While she is under _our_ roof, Father will _not_ — and I quote — _'tolerate any consorting with Mudbloods or other such foolishness.'_"

"Congratulations, Barf-boy. You actually listen to your daddy."

"It would do Maeve some good to do the same."

"What's he gonna do if she doesn't? Throw her out on the street or something?" 

"It's only fitting if she is going to repay our kindness by consorting with Mudbloods."

Hex raised an eyebrow. "That's got to be illegal, even in the magical world. Child neglect or something like that. Or are you oh-so-mighty Malfoys above the law?"

"They like to think so," Maeve finally said, her voice strained, "but they aren't." She tugged at his hand, to which she had clung all through the exchange with Malfoy. "Come, Hex, let's go."

The sneer on Malfoy's face as he watched them leave grated on Hex's nerves. "Are you all right?" Susan asked as they joined her and Peter at the Hufflepuff table.

"I'm fine," Maeve said, her composure restored, helping herself to some Cottleston pie.

But her palm had been clammy when she had led Hex away.

"What did Malfoy say to you?" Peter asked Hex in a low voice during Care of Magical Creatures. That day, Hagrid had them bathe the Turkish Tramplooses, huge four-footed animals that looked like they were part-yak, part-moose and part-Clydesdale. It was soggy, messy work, much like bathing a Hagrid-sized sheepdog; and like most of the girls, Maeve was only making half-hearted efforts to help. But it was apparent that she had much more on her mind than just keeping away from their Tramploose, which liked to shake itself a lot.

"He told Maeve that his dad wasn't happy that she was hanging around me so much," Hex replied as he soaped up his side of the Tramploose, making sure that the suds penetrated the coarse, matted fur. "Actually, Malfoy pretty much said he didn't want her hanging around me, period, and if she didn't stop they'd throw her out on the street. Stop that." This last was said to the Tramploose as it shook itself vigorously, spraying them and the nearby groups with soapsuds and smelly water.

"No wonder Maeve is so preoccupied." The other boy wiped suds off his face and shot Maeve a sympathetic look. "The Malfoys are making her choose between you and her home."

"Yeah, well…" Hex rubbed some more suds into the Tramploose's fur a little harder than he should. The animal whinnied in protest and shook itself again. "It's pretty obvious what she'll go for."

"Maybe Maggie can take her in," Peter said innocently.

"What are you talking about? She's not going to choose _me_."

"If Maeve is going to choose Malfoy over you, Hex, I'll have to hold her up by her ankles and shake some sense into her."

The other boy smiled briefly. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, dude, but you've got to be practical about these things. She needs to eat and stuff. She can't choose me."

"Well, if it were that simple, she wouldn't be thinking so hard about it," Peter pointed out.

Hex looked at Maeve sitting beside the bucket of sponges, her brow furrowed delicately, the way it always did when she was trying to work out a tough Potions essay. "There's nothing to think about." He helped Peter rinse away the suds, then tossed down his sponge and walked over to Maeve, wringing out his sodden robes as he went. 

She looked up when he came to a stop in front of her. Ignoring the roaring beginning in his ears, Hex took a deep breath. "We need to talk."

Maeve nodded, smiling tremulously. She looked a lot like What's-her-name did when she'd dumped him in the back seat of her car last summer, right before he got his Hogwarts letter. "I have something to tell you," she said softly. She looked at some nearby Ravenclaws emptying out their buckets and getting ready to leave for their next class. "We have a break coming up — will you walk with me?"

"Sure thing." With any luck, they could end up in the deserted side courtyard again and she could kiss him goodbye. _Shut up, you moron._ _This is a life-changing decision we're talking about here and all you can think of is making out. _

He gestured to Peter that they were going on ahead, but Susan had appeared and was helping the big boy finish up, so Hex figured it was no use trying to get his attention. "So," he ventured once they were a discreet distance away, "you wanted to say something?"

Maeve nodded and took his hand. Hex supposed it was a good sign, but the look on her face when he first came up hadn't. There was probably nothing in any Divination book in the Hogwarts library that could help him figure out the signals Maeve was sending him. "And it is…?" Hex prompted.

She kicked her way through the rocky ground, where some scrubby patches of new grass were beginning to appear. "First, I want to thank you for standing up to Draco yesterday."

"It was nothing. Barf-boy was being a jerk." 

"The things he said were not very nice."

"Like I said, he was being a jerk." _Can we get to the point already?_

"I'm sorry I wasn't much help in class today."

"Don't worry about it. You had a lot on your mind." He managed a smile. "And you know Pete — the more he gets to muck around with animals, the happier he is. I wouldn't be surprised if he inherited Hagrid's job one day."

She, too, smiled wanly. "You are both such good friends to me."

"So…you were thinking about what Barf-boy said yesterday?" Hex asked, trying to get the conversation back on track.

Maeve nodded again. "He said a lot of things that made me think."

"And you're going to tell me what you were thinking…?"

"Well, it's mostly still all mixed up," she admitted. "I was hoping you could help me sort it all out."

His heart began to pound. "But, Maeve…I don't know what to tell you." He wasn't sure if what he wanted for her was the right thing. He wasn't even sure what he wanted for her, period. Just thinking about it made his head spin.

Hex stumbled over a tree root and realized for the first time that they hadn't gone in the direction of the castle, but quite a ways into the Forbidden Forest. "Uh, Maeve, I think we'd better get back to the castle. We're not supposed to be here."

All around them was a vast expanse of tall trees. It was dim under the dense canopy formed by the branches overhead. "Are we lost?" Maeve asked, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

"No, look — we came from this direction, so all we have to do…is…"

His voice died as he heard a rustling some distance away. Hex motioned for her to stay quiet as the rustling drew nearer. He squeezed her hand, ready to make a run for it, when the bushes to Maeve's right parted in a shower of dead leaves and twigs. She screamed.

Hex, for his part, stood rooted to the spot.

It was a woman, gaunt and ragged, with filthy, matted hair. She was tall, however, and it was obvious that she had once been very beautiful. Her haunted, staring eyes were a deep blue. "Hello?" she called in a hoarse voice. "Hello? … Is anyone there?"

Hex and Maeve looked wildly at each other as the stranger wandered around the small clearing, calling out for anyone to hear her. She was plainly insane. What was she doing in the Forbidden Forest? "D'you know her?" Hex whispered to Maeve. 

She shook her head. "She looks like she needs help."

"Let's go get Hagrid."

"But she looks like she's about to die."

"Well, _we_ don't know how to take care of her. Go get a teacher."

Maeve frowned, pouting stubbornly after a whole day of spacing out. "I can't leave you here. And if we go for help she'll get lost again."

"Let's take her to Hagrid, then." Hex stood in the woman's path and waved a hand in front of her face. "Uh…over here, lady. Are you, uh, lost or something?"

The woman stopped walking, as if she had finally caught sight of them, and smiled sweetly. "Why, hello there." She looked at their black school robes. "Do you go to Hogwarts?"

"Uh, yeah, it's right outside of this forest. Why are you here? Do you need some help?"

"My, such pretty children," the stranger said, still smiling. She seemed particularly interested in Maeve. "Selenius would love to see you."

"We're not supposed to leave Hogwarts," Maeve told her, shrinking against Hex's side. The woman was starting to get creepy. Scenting danger, Hex surreptitiously reached for his wand. "Come with us," Maeve was saying. "We can help you."

"No," the stranger replied, grabbing onto Maeve's sleeve, "you must come with me."

She was surprisingly strong and had hauled Maeve to her before Hex could react. He drew his wand, ready to duel, but the madwoman had wrested Maeve's wand away and was holding the girl in front of her as a shield. "Will you come with me now?" she asked in that same placid tone, pointing the wand tip against Maeve's temple.

"Hex, get help," Maeve told him as she struggled to get free.

"I can't leave you here," he said. "Let her go," he told the woman in what he hoped was a calm voice. On TV, they always tried to talk hijackers and kidnappers into surrendering before ultimately riddling them with bullets. "If you let her go, we'll go with you." 

"That's what they all say," the stranger replied in a singsong voice, tightening her hold on Maeve. "I'd stop fighting if I were you, child," she hissed in the girl's ear. 

Maeve shook her head and whimpered in pain as the arm around her neck tightened even more. "Let her go," Hex repeated. "What do you want for you to let her go?"

"I need people," the woman said, smiling blissfully before bursting into song. _"People who need people…"_

Of course Barbra Streisand would be a witch, Hex thought as he watched Maeve struggle again. Afraid that she would get hurt, he could do no more than hold his wand at the ready and hope that he would be faster on the draw than her captor was. 

Maeve sobbed and stopped struggling. "Do it, Hex," she told him. "Run—curse her—anything. Don't worry about me."

"I'm not leaving you with her."

"Curses!" the woman said in a delighted voice, wrapping her other arm around Maeve. "I am good with curses! What curses do you—_AAAAHHHHH!!!_"

She gave an unholy shriek as Maeve sank her teeth into the arm holding her wand, galvanizing Hex into action. _"Furnunculus!"_ he yelled.

The madwoman shrieked again as painful red boils erupted all over her face. Gasping in pain, she wrenched her arm from Maeve's reach and thrust the wand she held at Hex. _"CRUCIO!"_

Instantly, Hex's body was wracked with pain, as if a thousand Hanks were beating up on him all at the same time. He barely heard Maeve scream as he fell to the ground. The familiar red haze came down upon his senses as wave after wave of agony broke over him. Hex cried out and twisted his body this way and that to try and escape the torture, but nothing helped.

He opened his eyes to the madwoman's shrill laughter and her captive's screams as Maeve again fought to get free. Finding his wand still clutched in his spasming fingers, Hex tried to curse the woman, but the needles drilling into his brain made it impossible to recall any useful spells. Still he gritted his teeth and tried to recall a curse, a charm, anything, that could help them get out of there.

Suddenly, Maeve bent over double, flipping her captor over her back and finally breaking her hold. The woman landed with a hard thud right next to Hex, and he willed himself to clutch at her robes and keep her from getting at Maeve again. Exerting supreme effort, he heaved himself onto his stomach and tried to drag the madwoman toward him. 

She kicked at him, but by then Maeve had jumped on her and was trying to beat up on the woman and regain her wand. Hex raised his body on trembling arms and tried to drag himself slowly over to the pair, then dropped himself heavily on the woman's flailing legs, too spent to move. 

He heard a voice say _"Sonorus,"_ and his magically magnified screams ripped through his ears. The last one, seemingly torn from his very soul, reverberated through his brain and he knew no more.

Hex jolted back into consciousness on a mighty gasp of air, his body twisting reflexively. His eyes flew open, but he was no longer on the floor of the Forbidden Forest. And the terrible pain was gone, leaving behind a familiar soreness.

Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall's faces popped into view. Both looked terrified. "Holmstrom?" Professor McGonagall barked weakly.

"Uh-huh?" he rasped. His throat was raw. Madam Pomfrey put a goblet to his lips. "Where'm I?" This wasn't his bed.

"You are in the hospital wing."

Hex sat bolt upright, remembering. "Professor!" Wildly he scanned the faces at his bedside: Hagrid and Professor Sprout, who were in tears, Professor Dumbledore, Peter. "Maeve! The forest—"

"Miss Moondaughter is fine," Madam Pomfrey told him, wrestling him back down. "She is resting."

"There was this crazy woman—"

"Eris Lestrange has been taken into custody," Professor McGonagall snapped, more like herself now that she knew he was OK.

__

"Eris Lestrange?"

"Yes, Mr. Holmstrom," Dumbledore said. "Eris Lestrange. One wonders how and _why_ these people wind up in Hogwarts. How are you feeling?"

"Like I just got run over a few hundred times by an asphalt roller. What did she _do_ to me?"

"If you were paying attention to your Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons," Professor McGonagall told him, "you would know that that was the Cruciatus Curse, one of the Unforgivable Curses."

"It was fortunate Miss Moondaughter regained possession of her wand and placed the Sonorus Charm on you," Dumbledore interjected gently. "The sound of your voice alerted Hagrid that you were in trouble." At the mention of his name, Hagrid nodded and blew his nose loudly. 

"Whatever were you _thinking_?" Professor Sprout sniffled. "Going off by yourselves like that—"

"We didn't notice where we were going," Hex mumbled, feeling stupid.

There was a sob and Maeve, small and pale in her dressing gown, materialized behind Madam Pomfrey. "Miss Moondaughter!" the matron reproached her. "I told you to stay in bed!"

"I wanted to see how Hex was doing," she said softly. "Are you all right?" Maeve asked him as Dumbledore gave her his seat at Hex's bedside. She had a long scratch going down one side of her face.

He managed a smile. "I'm fine. How about you?" 

She sniffled and nodded. "I'm fine, too."

"You were both lucky," Professor McGonagall reproached them. "If Eris Lestrange was sane enough to place the Cruciatus Curse on you, then she could also have killed you. Twenty points from Hufflepuff for blatant disregard of school security regulations."

__

"Twenty?" 

__

"Each." Peter cringed and Professor Sprout started in her chair. "Just imagine," Professor McGonagall went on, with a meaningful look at her colleague, "what the deduction would have been if you had both turned up dead."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "While you are on Hogwarts grounds, you are the school's responsibility. I hope you now understand that our security measures are in place for a reason." He smiled as Hex and Maeve nodded. "But at the same time, if you hadn't disobeyed school regulations, then Eris Lestrange would not have been caught. You each earn fifty points for Hufflepuff." Dumbledore chuckled at the surprise and relief mingled on Peter's face. "Now that we have established that Mr. Holmstrom and Miss Moondaughter are all right, and the disciplinary actions have been determined, I believe it is time to let these two young people rest."

__

"Finally," Madam Pomfrey said, and began hustling people from the hospital wing.

Dumbledore was the last to go. "What did Eris Lestrange say to you?" he asked Hex as Maeve was sent to bed.

"Nothing, really," the boy replied as he struggled to remember. "She wanted Maeve to go with her. She said someone named Selenius would love to see her or something like that."

"That means Selenius Lestrange is also nearby. Did she ask you your name?"

"I can't remember. Maybe she did after she put that curse on me, but I don't remember her asking before that." He observed that Dumbledore looked relieved. "I wasn't supposed to tell her, right?"

"That is correct."

"Why?"

The headmaster rose to leave. "The knowledge of your name would have given the Lestranges greater power over you," he said cryptically. "Be careful, Mr. Holmstrom. Selenius Lestrange is even more dangerous than his wife."

Maeve spent only one night in the hospital wing, while it took Hex three days of bed rest before Madam Pomfrey deemed him fit to rejoin the land of the living. By then, the news that he had been discovered in the Forbidden Forest under the Cruciatus Curse had spread all over the school. 

"What's everyone looking at?" Hex murmured to Peter as they joined the Hufflepuffs for breakfast on his first day back. The entire Great Hall was eerily silent as everyone watched every step he made.

"What do you think?" his friend replied. "You just spent three days in the hospital wing recovering from the Cruciatus Curse. I reckon they're all expecting you to start foaming at the mouth or something."

"Well, if everyone knows I was under that curse, how come they don't know I'm fine?"

"I tried to tell them, but they wouldn't believe me." 

Presently, Neville Longbottom walked up to them, his round face white. "All right there, Hex?" he squeaked, looking at Hex like he was a ticking time bomb.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Neville," he replied. "How are you doing?"

"All right," the other boy replied, smiling shakily. "I–I'm glad you got over that curse. It's—I heard it can be horrible."

Stout, slow and easily scared, Neville was the kind of guy Hex liked to pick on once upon a time. In fact, if he wasn't feeling so lousy, Hex still could have had a little fun at his expense. But what they were talking about was no laughing matter, and Neville looked as if he were going to cry. "Thanks."

Having said his piece, Neville nodded jerkily. "Well…I'm glad you're all right. See you in Herbology."

Conversation was markedly subdued at the Hufflepuff table that morning. People spoke in hushed tones when asking Hex how he was doing. He got sick of repeating that he was fine, thank you, but it was touchingly funny that each and every Hufflepuff felt they had to come up to him and find out.

The other fifth years trod carefully around him and Maeve at first, but Robert broke the ice by presenting Hex with a piece of parchment. On it was written, in elegant calligraphy, _I'm fine. Thank you for asking._

Hex laughed, causing people to look quickly in his direction, and pinned the sign to his front. "Thanks, Rob. This will come in handy for the next week or so."

Robert's present helped ease the students' fears somewhat, but Hagrid still burst into tears at the sight of him. "I'll never forget the sound o' yer screamin' till me dyin' day," the huge man vowed, blowing his nose on a polka-dotted handkerchief the size of a bed sheet. 

"Uh, I'd rather you forgot that I screamed at all," Hex said. Maeve did the only thing she could think of to alert anyone nearby that they were in danger, but he wasn't too comfortable with the idea that at least half the fifth year class had heard him screaming. It wasn't a very macho thing to do, after all.

Hagrid shook his head and blew his nose again. "Now yeh stay righ' where yeh are!" he ordered between sobs. "I ain't goin' ter rest till I see yeh safely inside the castle with every'un else!"

And it was back to the prison movie again.

After Hagrid deposited them in the Hogwarts castle, Hex, Maeve, and Peter went to hang out in the main courtyard until Transfiguration. They sat beside the fountain and shared Peter's bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans while preparing for the coming lesson.

Hex was spitting out a liver-flavored bean when Ron Weasley turned up with his friends. "Erm, hi," the redheaded boy said, nodding at them. "All right th—" He stopped short when he read the sign pinned to Hex's robes and laughed. "Glad to know you're all right."

"We wanted to visit you," Hermione said, "but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let us in."

"He was asleep most of the time," Peter reported. "It was very boring."

The Gryffindors laughed. "We're used to it," Ron told him. "Harry gets put in the hospital wing for that sort of thing all the time."

"Well, we can't let you have _all_ the fun," Hex told Harry. 

"I definitely don't mind sharing," the other boy replied, smiling.

"I heard you screamed like a _girl_, Holmstrom," someone sneered. Standing behind Ron was a smirking Malfoy, accompanied by a gang of Slytherins who were laughing and squealing mockingly.

"I'd like to see how _you'd_ react to the Cruciatus Curse, Malfoy," Harry said coldly.

"He'll probably cry for Daddy," Hex said, glaring at the Slytherins.

The pale boy smiled cockily. "There's no need to pretend for my sake, Holmstrom. I saw you leaning on Brandegoris this morning. If you're still feeling faintish, maybe you shouldn't be playing quidditch." The Hufflepuff-Slytherin match was coming up in two weeks. "Maybe Hufflepuff should concede the match right now."

"Oh, don't you worry about me, Barf-boy," Hex told him sweetly, "I'll be there. You just worry about whether or not we'll kick Slytherin's ass harder than Gryffindor did."

Malfoy flushed pink as Harry and Ron laughed. "You sound brave now, Mudblood, but we'll see how things turn out at the match. Maybe we'll be the ones kicking your ass, and you'll be squealing like a—"

Although his monologue sounded promising, he unfortunately didn't get to finish it. A small whirlwind brushed past Hex, and the next thing they all knew, Maeve was in Malfoy's face. "Lay off, Draco," she ordered, her voice shaking as she tried to keep her temper in check, and gave him an angry shove. "Eris Lestrange didn't put the Cruciatus Curse on _you_. (shove) You weren't (shove) even (shove) _there_. (shove) So don't pretend you know all about it. Screaming like a girl, indeed. (shove) If I hear another screech out of you or any of your toadies, Draco, (shove) _you'll_ be the one screaming like a girl."

He glared at her. "You forget, Maeve Moondaughter, that I can have you thrown out of Malfoy Manor tomorrow. All I have to do is write to Father."

Hex's insides went cold at the threat, but Maeve drew herself up and treated Malfoy to a glare of her own. "And _you_ forget, Draco Malfoy, that your father doesn't manage my money," she replied in a clipped voice. "Stop threatening me with the loss of your family's _hospitality_. It doesn't become you."

Malfoy's nostrils flared. "We'll see about that."

"Nice comeback," Peter observed mildly as the Slytherins stalked away. 

Ron grinned at Maeve. "Blimey, Maeve, you can be every bit as snotty as Malfoy when you want to. And I mean that in a really _good_ way," he added quickly.


	15. The Great Gretzky Fake-Out

****

Disclaimer: I own the Hufflepuff quidditch team and _Professional Quidditch Illustrated_ magazine. JK Rowling owns Hogwarts and the rest of its inhabitants. The song "We Will Rock You" belongs to Queen. (I just realized I've mentioned it a couple of times in this fic and never gave Queen the credit! All apologies.) The book-reading scene was inspired by the cool (heheh) movie _Mystery, Alaska_ starring Russell Crowe, Burt Reynolds and the New York Rangers (YAY!). Justin's "ear" comment was inspired by the Tyson-Holyfield fight (and the line of chocolate products it spawned). Finally, Wayne Gretzky belongs to himself.

****

Technical Notes: I retained much (if not all) of the Slytherin quidditch team from _Prisoner of Azkaban_. I believe this was because I was too lazy to think up my own names :D And again, please refer to Chapter 9. 

****

Author's Notes: (Man, I love these pre-story comment things :D) I've got an inter-House study group going in this chapter. While JK's characters seem to stick only to each other in her books, I like to think that the Hogwarts students mix with each other — except maybe Slytherin, who are kind of aloof. Some people may have an issue with that and I do now, but please bear in mind that this is my first-ever Harry Potter fanfic, so I've developed a bit since then. Thank you! Now, on with the show!

__

The Great Gretzky Fake-out

__

"There will be no mercy, ladies and gentlemen!" Justin Finch-Fletchley ranted during his pre-game commentary on the appointed Sunday afternoon. He really was a nice guy, but from the minute he heard about the confrontation with Malfoy, he began hyping up Hufflepuff versus Slytherin as the grudge match of the century. "There will be broomstick artistry like you've never seen, some blood and bruises, and possibly a broken bone or two, but I guarantee that there will be _no retreat, no surrender_!"

"That guy could make a living as a fight promoter," Hex observed as he waited for Justin to get on with the introductions, "or a televangelist."

Peggy, who had been restlessly pacing the tunnel, looked up. "Are you _sure_ you're all right, Hex?" 

"Yes, Mom, I'm just fine," he replied in a singsong voice. He knew the Hufflepuffs were genuinely concerned about his health, but couldn't help thinking that some might be more worried about the house's quidditch winning streak. "There's no need to call off the match."

"Oh, Hex, that's not what we're worried about at all," Bridget told him.

"We don't want you to get hurt," Samira agreed. 

"Well, I won't," Hex said. "I'm fine. We've got Jeremy all suited up and ready to call in anytime you want." Having the reserve Beater waiting in the stands had been the only way he could persuade Professor Sprout to let him play that afternoon. "But I swear you won't need him."

Peggy frowned. "If this is about Malfoy and your stupid male pride—"

"Draco is not an issue," Maeve told her firmly. "Hex just wants to play."

Hex smiled at her briefly and turned to the rest of the team. "Look, you guys, this may be our last game of the season." Hufflepuff still had a rematch against Gryffindor coming up, but the appearances of the Dementor and Eris Lestrange gave rise to talk that quidditch could be called off for the year. Dumbledore had agreed to go on with that afternoon's match only because the students took extra Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons (whoopee, extra helpings of Professor Snape) and teachers were patrolling the grounds in case another Dementor — or another Lestrange — showed up. "We begged them to let us play today. Maybe I do want to prove to everyone that I'm OK, but more than that I just want to be out there with all of you. It's where I _should_ be."

He looked at all their faces. Some of the girls looked convinced, but Robert arched a derisive eyebrow. "To borrow a phrase from you, Hex, that was a crock of shit."

Maeve giggled. "OK," Hex averred, "how about this — we all watched Jeremy practice and I'm sure he's going to do his best if and when he plays, but I still work better with Peggy than he does. And I'm _fine_. Will that do?"

Samira laughed as Justin told the crowd to get ready to rumble. "It'll have to. Get on your broomsticks, everybody. It's time."

"Good luck," Robert said as his name was announced. And they were off.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Beater Hex Holmstrom's return to active duty after his encounter with the Dark Side," Justin told the crowd as seven yellow blurs circled the arena. "At first, his health was a concern, but I've seen him in practice, folks, and let me tell you, the man is back at _one thousand percent_!"

Hex grinned and gave the roaring Hufflepuff supporters a thumbs-up as he did a lap around the pitch. Then the last echoes of "We Will Rock You" died down and the Slytherin side of the stands began to cheer. 

"And their opponents…" Justin intoned, sounding much less enthusiastic. The Slytherins cheered as Justin announced their house team's names and the players took to the air. On the other hand, the Hufflepuff supporters all opened thick schoolbooks and began to read them in silent dismissal of the team now circling the pitch. 

"This was a brilliant idea," Hermione giggled as she and Ron ducked behind _Hogwarts, A History_.

"You're not reading for _real_, are you, Hermione?" Fred asked.

"No wonder so many people borrowed books this morning!" Madam Pince murmured. 

"Taking books out on the grounds!" Professor Snape hissed. "There should be five points taken from each of them!"

"Oh, hush, Severus," Professor Sprout told him. "You're just mad that we got the idea first."

"Taking books out on the grounds is against the rules!"

"There is nothing in Hogwarts regulations about where students are to read their books," Professor Dumbledore said as the green-clad Slytherin players took their places. "I appreciate your concern for school property, Severus, but I am certain that the students will store and return their books properly after they are used during this match."

On her way to her place in the lineup, Maeve stopped to wish Hex luck. "Take care of yourself," she said. "They'll be aiming for you."

"I'll be fine."

"I know." And she leaned over and kissed him, right in front of everyone. "Good luck."

"Oi!" Ron put down his Omniculars. "Are they doing what I think they're doing?"

Hex blushed and grinned as the crowd cheered them on. Behind her, their opponents were gaping. And Malfoy looked absolutely furious. "That was a mean thing to do to poor Barf-boy," he told her just before kissing her back, "but I forgive you."

"Public displays of affection!" Professor Snape exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at the pair. "Twenty points must be taken from each of them!"

"Oh, _can it_, Severus," Professor Sprout snapped, doing a little "borrowing" of her own.

"The two young people are in love," Maggie McGonagall sniffled. "Isn't it beautiful?"

It was a struggle right from the opening whistle. No amount of mental preparation could have readied the Hufflepuff team for the knockdown drag-out fight against Slytherin. "_OW! Another_ flying elbow by Chaser Montague!" Justin cried as Madam Hooch blew her whistle for the _n_th time that morning. "_Another_ foul, ladies and gentlemen…it looks to me like Slytherin is finally running out of moves — _Quidditch Through the Ages_ doesn't have a very long list of illegal moves and it can only take you so far—"

__

"FINCH-FLETCHLEY!" 

"Yes, Professor…as I was saying, Houlihan takes the penalty shot—_BAM!_ Beats the Slytherin Keeper, the score is 50-30 in favor of Hufflepuff! Did you hear that, fans? _Hufflepuff is leading Slytherin!_" This last statement was met with a mixture of cheers and boos as the crowd expressed its sentiments. "Slytherin's, er, _cutting-edge_ style of play has drawn many fouls, of which the Hufflepuff Chasers have taken full advantage. However, Slytherin has so far managed to hold its own during this match. The game resumes, Slytherin in possession of the Quaffle."

Hex aimed his Bludger at Slytherin Chaser Ian MacNair, cussed when it went wide, then flew to catch up with him. "You're gonna miss, dude!" He scooted a little closer. "Miss, miss, miss; you're gonna miss…"

MacNair glared at him, but the focus in his beady eyes told Hex that someone was coming up behind him. _"OW!"_ Justin cried as the crowd groaned in sympathy. "Slytherin tries to sandwich Holmstrom, but the Hufflepuff Beater dives in the nick of time, and MacNair and Derrick collide! MacNair drops the Quaffle, Holmstrom ready and waiting — clubs the Quaffle to Derwent! Derwent's tearing up the pitch, ladies and gentlemen; meanwhile, Seekers Malfoy and Moondaughter are still circling overhead…"

However, even with Peggy covering his back against any Bludgers, Tim's shot was turned back by the Slytherin Keeper. "Don't worry about it," Bridget consoled him. "We're still leading."

But not for long. Hufflepuff's other shots were similarly denied, while on the other side of the field, Slytherin's Chasers — one after the other — tied the score and took the lead, 60-50. "Who's kicking whose ass now, Mudblood?" Malfoy gloated.

Hex growled and aimed a Bludger at him, drawing a foul and allowing Slytherin to up the score at 70-50. "You've got to keep cool, Hex," Samira said during the succeeding time-out. "We want to make _them_ angry, remember?"

"Sorry," he grumbled, glaring at the ground. "Barf-boy was being a jerk."

"Well, the best way to put him in his place is to beat Slytherin." She laughed. "Whether you want to thrash him after the game is your business."

"If it makes you feel any better, Hex," Peggy said, "you're playing like you were never hurt at all. I don't know why we ever thought we needed the reserve."

"_I_ never thought we needed the reserve," Maeve declared as there were nods of agreement all around. 

Hex managed a grin. "Thanks, you guys. That does help some. Let's go out there and get our game back, shall we?"

"Come back for more, have you?" Malfoy sneered as the teams again faced each other on the pitch. "I always knew they had nothing but idiots in Hufflepuff." 

"That's enough!" Madam Hooch snapped. "If you can't keep a civil tongue in your head, Mr. Malfoy, I'm forfeiting this match this instant!" She eyed both teams and, satisfied that everyone's tongues were civil again, blew her whistle.

__

Swish!

"Bloody hell!" Ron howled as the Hufflepuffs went wild. _"Did you see that?!"_

"Ladies and gentlemen, Bridget Houlihan scores for Hufflepuff!" Justin announced. "She grabbed the Quaffle at the whistle and launched it straight toward the Slytherin goal!"

"She made the shot from almost half a field away!" Harry exclaimed. "_And_ it made it past Flint!"

"The score is now 70-60 in favor of Slytherin, folks, and the lovely Miss Houlihan has earned a place in the history books!"

"Yea, Bridget!" Peter roared, quite forgetting himself in the excitement of the moment.

__

"Yea, Bridget! Yea, Bridget!" the Hufflepuffs chanted, waving their banners and cheering wildly once more.

__

"One more goal, and we're out of the hole!" Justin bellowed, dancing up and down in his seat. Professor McGonagall, still dumbstruck by Bridget's miraculous move, did not censor him. 

The action shifted to the Hufflepuff side of the field as Slytherin Chaser Warrington made his way toward the goal. The Slytherin Chasers were grouped closely together and quickly passing the Quaffle among themselves. However, Samira, Hex and Peggy formed a cluster of their own and plowed into the Slytherin group, causing Montague to drop the Quaffle right into Timothy's waiting arms.

Samira dodged Warrington's huge fist and sped away to help protect Timothy's back as he flew toward the Slytherin goal. "_Pee-yew! _Get away from me, man," Hex snapped as a Slytherin Beater (he wasn't sure which one) glued himself to his side, trying to get through to Timothy. His new Siamese twin didn't smell too fresh. "When was the last time you had a shower?"

Hex said a few choice words (and thanking his lucky stars that Madam Hooch was out of earshot) as the Slytherin nudged him again, and again, harder this time. Finally, he grunted and they collided, but Hex managed to stay on his broomstick while the other boy dropped back, bellowing and holding his head. 

He had taken a Bludger meant for Hex, who grinned as the two Slytherin Beaters decided to settle their differences with their clubs. "What are those two imbeciles _doing_?" Malfoy said angrily as he sped toward them, momentarily distracted in his search for the Snitch.

"Derrick! Bole! What are you _doing_?" Professor Snape called from the stands. "You're Beaters, not prizefighters!"

"Bite his ear!" Justin suggested to the combatants.

__

"FINCH-FLETCHLEY!"

Hex caught up with Timothy, who was on a breakaway, just as a Bludger crossed his path. He clubbed the black ball toward the Slytherin goal, and the opposing Keeper instinctively went for it, clearing the way for Timothy to score.

"And Hufflepuff is out of the hole!" Justin raved. "Thanks to a Great Gretzky Fake-out by Beater Hex Holmstrom, Timothy Derwent was able to tie the score at 70 and put the Yellow and Black Attack _back in the game_!

"According to the October 2001 issue of _Professional Quidditch Illustrated_, the Great Gretzky Fake-out was developed by Canadian Beater Wayne Gretzky, who has made the same waves in his part of the world as Mr. Holmstrom has here at—_was that the Snitch?_" The tiny golden ball zipped quickly around Montague's head before disappearing again. However, that didn't stop Maeve from giving him a good smack upside the back of his head.

"Miss Moondaughter!" Madam Hooch scolded as the Hufflepuffs laughed. "You're not going to catch the Snitch that way! Cup your hand a little next time!"

"Yes, Madam Hooch," Maeve said sweetly.

Justin was staring hard at the pitch, but the Snitch had disappeared again. "FYI, ladies and gentlemen, if Maeve Moondaughter catches the Snitch now, with the score tied at 70, Hufflepuff is in the _quidditch final against Gryffindor!_ …No pressure, of course, Maeve…"

The Hufflepuff Seeker made a face at the commentators' stand as she rose above the action again to survey the area for the Snitch. Malfoy followed suit. "You know, Maeve, if you let me win this game, I might just let you go on living with my family."

"What's this?" Hex asked as he joined Maeve in order to protect her from any Bludgers. "Are you trying to blackmail her into throwing the game, Barf-boy?" He _tsk_ed and shook his head, then knocked a passing Bludger away. "Say it ain't so, Joe!"

"I suppose she doesn't need to throw the match," Malfoy replied smugly, "since she won't win, anyway."

Maeve ignored the barb, remaining focused on the task at hand.

Hex sent another Bludger toward a Slytherin Chaser, forcing him to drop the Quaffle. "How are you so sure about that?"

"My dear boy, it is practically a certainty. Hufflepuffs never win anything. They're worker bees — valued more for their backs than their brains. Granted, maybe Diggory was a fl—"

__

"Moondaughter dives!"

"What the—" Malfoy spun around in time to see Maeve rising back in the air, with a brilliant smile on her face and something clutched in her fist. Madam Hooch's whistle blew.

Below them, the Hufflepuffs went mad, cheering, waving, stomping, crying, hugging each other, gaping in disbelief. "Ladies and gentlemen," Justin announced, his voice hoarse, _"Hufflepuff is in the quidditch final!"_ The scoreboard read Hufflepuff: 220, Slytherin: 70.

__

"All frickin' RIGHT!!!" Hex whooped, thrusting his arms in the air.

Malfoy glared at the other boy with pure hatred. "You distracted me."

"You distracted yourself," he replied. "Waah waah waah," Hex said mockingly as the Slytherin sped over to argue with Madam Hooch. From the look on the flying teacher's face, she was similarly telling Malfoy that his inability to beat Maeve to the Snitch was his own fault. Hex grinned in satisfaction and went to celebrate with his teammates.

"Who's the idiot now, Malfoy?" Bridget asked the pale Slytherin tartly as Maeve did a lap of honor around the pitch, holding the Snitch high above her head.

"The look on Malfoy's face was priceless!" Ron crowed as they sat in the courtyard a few days later, studying for their Ordinary Wizarding Levels (O.W.L.s), the standard examinations all Hogwarts students took in their fifth year. "Maeve stole the Snitch from right under his snotty little nose!"

"Malfoy always wastes too much time making fun of people to pay attention to the match," Harry said. "It's a particular failing of his."

"Yeah, Barf-boy's a moron, but that's not the only reason why we won that game," Hex reminded them. "Don't forget, Maeve's really good at diving—" he grinned at the girl beside him "—whether she's on her broomstick or not."

"We'll see how good she really is at the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff rematch," Dean said cockily.

"Boys," Hermione broke in, "quidditch is very exciting indeed, but can we get back to studying?"

"But Hermione, you don't need to study," Ron told her. "You've been reviewing since last _year_!"

"One can never be too prepared," Lisa Turpin, a fifth year Ravenclaw, said in a perfect imitation of Hermione's holier-than-thou voice. Everyone, even Hermione, laughed good-naturedly.

With the O.W.L.s drawing nearer, the fifth years had begun reviewing in earnest. Hex and the other fifth year Hufflepuffs had convened their study group the day after the quidditch match against Slytherin, only to be thrown out of the library by the seventh years who had taken it over to study for their Nasty Exhausting Wizarding Tests (N.E.W.T.s). Displaced, they had joined the fifth year Gryffindors, whom they found studying in the courtyard. The inter-House study group eventually came to include the fifth year Ravenclaws as well.

"What were we studying again?" Hermione asked, deciding that playtime was over and consulting her notes. "Second year Transfiguration, was it?" She was naturally leading most of the study group's discussions, being the smartest witch in the year. 

"We haven't even gone through _first_ year Transfiguration," Seamus protested. 

"Yes, we have," Lavender informed him, frowning. "Maeve was talking about it just yesterday. Weren't you listening?"

"He was probably looking interested for other reasons," Ernie teased as Maeve turned a fetching shade of pink.

"And how did _you_ know that?" Hannah asked, her blue eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Terry Boot smiled and shook his head at all the lovers' quarrels beginning to erupt around him. "Well, it's obvious that we need to review first year Transfiguration all over again," he said calmly. "Why don't _I_ do the talking?"

"Good idea," Justin told him, grinning. Terry was a wild-haired, scholarly Ravenclaw who had more than his fair share of adolescent acne. "That way, we'll _all_ be able to concentrate on the lesson."


	16. We're Hufflepuffs, Dammit!

****

Disclaimer: I own the Hufflepuff quidditch team, the commentators' nicknames, Golden Horns, and Maggie McGonagall. JK Rowling owns Hogwarts, its inhabitants, and the Wronski Feint. Justin's "are you ready" catchphrase belongs to whoever is making money off the old D-generation X gimmick and the tuba, as always, belongs to the great Gordon Korman. 

****

Technical Notes: To anyone who owns and has memorized _Quidditch Through the Ages_, please be informed that I do not have a copy. Therefore, I am not aware of the quidditch maneuvers classified by _QTTA_ as illegal. Any and all maneuvers used in this fic came purely from my imagination.

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__

We're Hufflepuffs, Dammit!

"This is it, ladies and gentlemen!" Lee Jordan announced dramatically one cool spring morning. Almost instantly, the crowd packing the stands erupted. "This is the big day—" he said over the mad yelling going on all around the commentators' seats.

"—the moment of truth—" Justin intoned.

"—the one we've all been waiting for—"

"—_the Final Showdown!_" This final, dramatic pronouncement was punctuated with an impossibly loud roar from the crowd. _"Are—you—readyyyyy?"_

Down below the stands, Hex shook his head at Justin's rant. "He's bringing out every old catchphrase in the book!"

"This morning's match-up pits defending champions Gryffindor against the Cinderella Hufflepuff team! This is the Gabbling Gryffindor, Lee Jordan—"

"—and Justin 'the Muggle Mouth' Finch-Fletchley! That's right, Lee, this morning, it's the Bold Red and Gold in action against the Yellow and Black Attack for the _ultimate_ prize — the _Hogwarts Quidditch Cup!_ After this game is over, only _one_ team will reign _supreme_ as the _best_ in school quidditch this year, while the other goes away _empty-handed!_"

The crowd cheered excitedly, but hidden away below the bleachers, Robert groaned and turned an even nastier shade of green. "Thank you, Justin, put some more pressure on us, will you?"

"He can't hear you," Bridget told the Hufflepuff Keeper absently, gazing off into space.

"Try to relax, Robert," Peggy suggested as she paced the length of the tunnel. "Do something else to take your mind off the…you-know-what."

"No, I don't know what," he replied. "What?"

"The match, silly!" At her words, Peggy grimaced and stamped her foot in annoyance. "There, now you've got _me_ thinking about it! Thanks a lot!"

"I wouldn't have asked you if you hadn't brought it up!"

"Come off it," Maeve said in a tone as zoned-out as Bridget's. "Don't fight so close to the match." 

Peggy and Robert nevertheless continued to glare at each other. They would have gone at it again if Samira hadn't shown up with Professor Sprout, who was bedecked with a number of rather soiled yellow rosettes and carried an outsize daffodil to show her support for her house team. "All right, everyone?" their captain asked. She was smiling, but her back was rigid with tension.

"Fine," Robert grumbled.

"Professor Sprout wanted to come by and wish us luck," Samira said. The teacher, grinning broadly, nodded speechlessly.

"Thank you, Professor," Timothy said, after being silent all morning. His smile was wan and he looked ready to hurl. Hex knew the feeling.

When Professor Sprout finally spoke, her voice was thick with emotion. "Never in all my days at Hogwarts have I seen Hufflepuff reach the quidditch final. You've done so well, my dears, and we are all so proud of you." She looked around at them, her eyes brimming. "Who would have thought you would come this far?"

"Samira did," Maeve said softly.

"We all did," Samira corrected, her eyes misting over. "We all believed."

"And we all believe that we'll win," Hex said firmly.

Professor Sprout smiled and touched his cheek in motherly benediction. "Just do your best, my dears, and Hufflepuff House will stick by you, win or lose." 

"We love you too, Professor Sprout," Bridget cried, impulsively hugging their Head of House. Sniffling, the other girls followed suit and they clung to each other, sobbing and laughing at the same time.

Hex traded wry glances with Robert and Timothy before finally joining the group hug. But as he held everyone else in his arms, there was a curious swelling in his chest. It was then that he realized that Professor McGonagall's words before the Sorting Ceremony were correct. The Hufflepuffs were more than just roommates, classmates, even friends — they were his family. And while Professor Sprout was old, absentminded, and a little too attached to the earth, she did more than her job required. She loved them. 

Hex breathed deeply as the team embraced, inhaling the combination of people, earth, plants, water, flowers. Professor Sprout smelled like life.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Lee announced, "we have just been informed that this match is a carry-over of the previous one in January, which got called off due to unrelated events. The score thus stands at 50-20 in favor of Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff leads in the overall standings by 170 points. All Gryffindor needs to do is score at least three more goals and catch the Snitch to win the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup!" At his pronouncement, the Gryffindor supporters cheered, waving their scarves and banners. The banner held by Hermione, Parvati and Ginny depicted a golden Gryffindor lion that roared whenever it was waved.

"That means Hufflepuff must protect its lead and catch the Snitch early in the game," Justin said. "And I wouldn't bet against that just yet, Lee. Maeve Moondaughter has yet to miss the Snitch this year!" 

__

"That's right!" Ernie shouted, and the rest of the Hufflepuffs backed him up, cheering and waving their own banners and a fair number of huge yellow spring flowers. Professor Sprout had opened the greenhouses to her Hufflepuffs as her contribution to the booster effort, and every yellow bloom had been harvested for the cause. The Golden Horns, enormous bell-shaped flowers that could be used as megaphones, were especially popular. 

"That's unfair competition, Zinnia," Professor McGonagall said as Professor Sprout returned to her seat beside the Gryffindor Head of House.

The other teacher smiled as her students made good use of their Golden Horns. "If you had wanted to transfigure your bleachers into lions, my dear Minerva, I wouldn't have stopped you."

"Shush now!" Maggie ordered as the Hufflepuffs began to stomp and sing. "The players are coming!"

__

"Ladies and gentlemen," Justin intoned,_ "introducing the challengers…Padgett! Derwent! Houlihan! Sabo! Abbott! Holmstrom! Aaaaaand…Moondaughter!"_ He took a deep breath and poured every ounce of his being into bellowing his house team's name. _"I give you the Yellow and Black Attack—YOUR HUFFLEPUFF QUIDDITCH TEAM!!!"_

Signs waved, banners billowed and the Hufflepuff four-person tuba blew as the seven yellow-robed players burst from their tunnel, whooping exuberantly. Hex and Robert waved their arms, goading the crowd into cheering (or booing) louder, yelling things no one could hear. Peggy and Samira circled the pitch with determined looks on their faces. And Timothy — mild-mannered Timothy Derwent — threw back his head and let loose a hair-raising rebel yell that put Hermione's magical banner to shame.

__

"And the defending champions…" Lee began then, bringing the Gryffindor side to life. _"Playing this afternoon for the Bold Red and Gold — Thomas! Bell! Johnson! Weasley! Weasley! Weasley! Aaaaaand…Potter! Ladies and gentlemen, the Gryffindor quidditch team!"_

The adrenaline was rushing through Hex's system as the red-clad Gryffindor players took their places opposite the Hufflepuffs. "Captains, shake hands!" Madam Hooch instructed.

But instead of just shaking hands, Samira and Angelina embraced. "A sportswomanly gesture from our two quidditch captains," Lee said as the onlookers applauded. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Angelina Johnson's final match for Gryffindor, as she will be graduating from Hogwarts in June."

"So will Katie Bell and the Weasley twins, I believe," Justin observed. "And so will you, Lee. Gryffindor quidditch will be radically different next year."

"But in the meantime," Lee said brightly, "we're all still here. The balls are released!" Everyone watched the tiny Golden Snitch circle Maeve's and Harry's heads before disappearing in the sun. Madam Hooch then blew a mighty blast on her whistle. _"And the game begins!_…Bell takes first possession of the Quaffle for Gryffindor — she's speeding toward the Hufflepuff goal with Derwent right on her tail…"

"Stay off her tail, boyo!" George Weasley bellowed, sending a Bludger Timothy's way. Katie giggled as Timothy went off-course to avoid the ball and George shifted into place behind her. "_I'm_ the only one who covers her rear around here!"

"And _I've_ got her front, Weasley!" Bridget announced as she cut in out of nowhere, startling the Quaffle out of Katie's arms.

"The action shifts to the Gryffindor side of the pitch as Houlihan pulls off a massive steal!" Justin announced. "Abbott and Holmstrom are on hand to keep the Gryffindors away…Houlihan coming closer and closer to face off against rookie Keeper Thomas…She's veering left—no, right—left again—she shoots—"

__

"Denied!" Lee chortled and the Hufflepuffs groaned. Instead of contending with Bridget's guard of honor, Ron had come from underneath to steal the Quaffle before it could enter the goalpost. He dodged a Bludger and passed the red ball back to Katie, and everyone sped back toward the Hufflepuff goal.

Peggy spied a stray Bludger. She and Fred were both speeding toward it when a loud chirping issued from the stands. Large yellow canaries were sitting in the places of three or four Hufflepuffs. Recognizing his handiwork, Fred pointed and laughed, distracted long enough for Peggy to take the Bludger before he could.

"Hey!" Fred protested as she sent the Bludger pelting toward Katie.

"You snooze, you lose," she said sweetly before speeding away.

The game remained scoreless for another half-hour until Angelina took a pass from Katie and sent it right past Robert. "And Johnson scores!" Lee exclaimed jubilantly as the Gryffindor supporters cheered. "Hufflepuff now leading by only 160 points!…Er, that sounded stupid, didn't it?"

Play resumed with Timothy in possession of the Quaffle. "Holmstrom arrives in time to fend off a Bludger," Justin reported. "Sabo and Houlihan join them and the Hufflepuff Chasers advance toward the Gryffindor goal…any sight of the Snitch yet?"

"Not on this side. Both Moondaughter and Potter are still wandering about aimlessly."

The Hufflepuff Chasers closed in on Dean Thomas, passing the Quaffle among themselves, but he was ready for them and turned back what looked like a sure goal. The frustration was beginning to dawn on Bridget's face. "Keep cool," Samira advised her before speeding off in pursuit of Ron Weasley. "You'll get past him next time."

But there wasn't going to be a next time. It was as if the Hufflepuff team from the previous match had been kidnapped by aliens and replaced with inept pod people. Ron easily got past Robert, and Angelina scored another goal right on his heels. "The score is tied, 50-50!" Lee cried. "The Gryffindor crowd goes mad and Potter begins a serious search for the Golden Snitch!"

It was only a matter of minutes before Katie scored her first goal of the game, earning the first Gryffindor lead. Robert ground out a curse through gritted teeth. "Let it go," Hex told him, pounding the other boy's back. "The game's not over yet."

The next moments were all Gryffindor as Ron, Angelina and Katie riddled Robert with goals. "This is unbelievable!" Lee told the half-cheering, half-silent crowd. He'd been doing most of the talking so far. "Gryffindor now leads 130-50, with Bell scoring that last goal off a penalty by Peggy Abbott! Hufflepuff calls a time out!"

"What's wrong with us?" Peggy demanded as the teams went into huddle. "We're falling apart!"

"Don't think that way," Samira said. "Only losers think that way."

Robert shrugged. "Then we're losers. Look at that score — Gryffindor is walking all over us. _Everyone_ walks all over us. It's a historical fact."

Hex frowned. "If it's history, Rob, then it's over. It doesn't mean it'll go on forever."

"Hex is right," Samira said. "We didn't go to the quidditch final by letting people walk all over us. We made it because we fought back. Look at what we've achieved here! Why are we going to start rolling over and taking the punishment again _now?_"

"Because we're tired," Peggy told her in a defeated voice. She had fouled twice during the game and wasn't very happy about it. "We've done all we can and can't do any more."

"Peg," Hex said, "you're my friend and everything, but please shut the hell up. We're trying to build up morale here, not tear it down."

The other Beater turned to him sadly. "Hex, you're my friend, too, but will you just face the facts? We're losers. I don't know what came over us, thinking we could beat Gryffindor."

A dead silence followed Peggy's outburst. Then Maeve spoke. "I'm not a loser," she said quietly.

"Good on you, Maeve," Samira said, putting an arm around the smaller girl's shoulders. "I'm not a loser, either."

"I'm _definitely_ not a loser," Hex declared.

Bridget, who had been quiet all through the discussion, looked up at them, her face wet with tears. "I don't want to be a loser," the youngest member of the team said softly. Beside her, Tim nodded his head.

"Then don't be," Samira told her. She looked around at her teammates. "We've had it drilled into our heads for years that Hufflepuffs are friendly, loyal and hardworking. And it's true. We are. But where does it say that we're soft? That we just lie around and let people walk all over us? That we're losers?" Her big brown eyes flashed dangerously. "We're _Hufflepuffs_, dammit! We're not afraid of hard work! We're not afraid of suffering!" She jabbed a finger in the general direction of the Gryffindor team. _"We're tougher than they are!"_

The Hufflepuff team that came out of that huddle was not the noisy, exuberant one that had taken the field at the beginning of the match. They, like their supporters, were now subdued, facing the mounting challenge of catching up with the Gryffindor lead. But there was a grim determination stamped on all their faces. Hufflepuff House had been branded losers for centuries simply because no one had ever tried to refute the label. The team's motto all through the season had been "Let's shock them." And the time had come to do just that.

"We can do this, Peg," Hex told his partner, giving her a hard hug before they took their places for the opening face-off. "We can win the cup, or we go down swinging. But either way, we beat something. We won't be losers."

"Gryffindor only needs 60 more points to tie!" Lee said as the game resumed with Ron Weasley in possession of the Quaffle. "Potter still looking for the Snitch…Weasley speeding toward the Hufflepuff goal—_Bludger!_—sorry, Holmstrom, you missed…ladies and gentlemen, the Quaffle has not left Gryffindor hands in over—_OH! Weasley scores! The score is now 140-50, Gryffindor!_"

"Play resumes with Hufflepuff in possession. He's speeding toward the Gryffindor goal, but Bell and Weasley are on his trail…We're seeing a lot of professional-quality playing from the Gryffindor Chasers," Justin admitted. 

"Thank you, Justin. Several professional quidditch teams have, in fact, shown interest in recruiting Angelina and Katie. But I wouldn't be surprised to see Bridget Houlihan, for one, in professional action after Hogwarts. She shows real promise."

There was a tiny flash of gold near the Gryffindor goalposts. Both Maeve and Harry went after it, but the Snitch had disappeared before they got there. Timothy, on the other hand, faced Dean one on one and almost scored. Samira clapped him on the back. "Again," she told him.

Down in the stands, Susan suddenly stood up and the tuba began to blast furiously. Everyone turned to look in her direction. "What are you doing?" Hannah hissed.

"Gryffindor has out-shouted us all morning," she replied. "I don't want our team to think we've abandoned them just because we're behind."

"We're not behind. If Maeve catches the Snitch now, we can still win." Beside her, Peter rose to his feet and began to wave the Hufflepuff flag. Susan smiled at him gratefully and together the pair of them began to cheer again. _"Let's go, Robert!"_

Someone began to stamp his feet and little by little, the banners and noisemakers came back to life. Timothy waved his arms as he flew by, gesturing for them to cheer louder. Two more Hufflepuffs turned into canaries.

They roared when Robert turned back a shot by Angelina Johnson and action shifted back to the Gryffindor side of the field. "Abbott sends a Bludger in to take Bell off Sabo's tail," Justin reported, staring intently at the pitch. "Sabo dodges three — count them — _three_ Weasleys, and it's just her and Thomas, facing each other down…Holmstrom is on the scene—another Gretzky Fake-out from the Hufflepuff Beater—_Sabo scoooooores!!!_"

Maggie McGonagall jumped to her feet, screaming wildly along with Professor Sprout and the Hufflepuffs (although she had been a Gryffindor during her Hogwarts days). "Holmstrom does it again and Samira Sabo scores for Hufflepuff!" a revived Justin cried. "The score is 140-60 in favor of Gryffindor, but Hufflepuff isn't taking it lying down!"

From that moment, the Hufflepuffs didn't sit still. The looks on their players' faces were clear: it didn't matter if they were behind, what mattered was that their team was going to fight to the very end. And the ever-loyal Hufflepuffs were going to see their team through. 

The tuba blasted again as Samira did a lap around the field. They waved their banners and shouted encouragement as Gryffindor retaliated with four more goals in rapid succession. They chanted Robert's name even as Katie Bell beat him on the rebound, bringing the score to 190-60, and cheered their team right through the succeeding time-out.

"They're almost tied with us now," Samira said tensely. "The outcome of the match depends on which team can catch the Snitch first."

"No pressure, of course, Maeve," Hex managed to joke. She smiled weakly at him. 

"Chasers, let's just keep trying to score. Maybe we can catch Gryffindor up on goals, maybe not. But the point is to keep trying."

"Do you still think we can win?" Robert asked in a small voice. 

"I honestly don't know," Samira admitted. "But it's not really about winning anymore, is it?"

"One more goal, ladies and gentlemen!" Lee announced as play resumed. "Gryffindor needs one more goal to tie with Hufflepuff in the overall standings!" The Gryffindors roared as Ron Weasley scored right after the opening whistle. _"Weasley scores! 200-60, and Gryffindor has tied Hufflepuff in total points!"_

"Weasley takes a page out of Bridget Houlihan's book to score for Gryffindor," Justin said as he watched the action with a growing air of resignation. "He took the Quaffle at the opening whistle and launched it straight at the Hufflepuff goal, catching Keeper Padgett by surprise…where the heck is that Snitch? Neither Seeker seems to know."

Bridget now had the Quaffle, and she was speeding purposefully toward the Gryffindor goal. She got past Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell, and was drawing nearer to a showdown with Dean Thomas when a Bludger came pelting out of the blue and startled her into dropping the ball. She glared poisonously at Fred Weasley as a Gryffindor Chaser made off with the Quaffle. "Why don't you just give me a break, you—"

"Shut up, Bridget," Hex hissed as Bridget let loose a string of very colorful insults, "before Madam Hooch hears you!" He sent a Bludger toward Katie Bell.

"And Gryffindor is in the lead, ladies and gentlemen!" Lee cried, jumping to his feet along with all the other Gryffindors. "Katie Bell scores, bringing the totals up to 210-60 in favor of Gryffindor!"

"You must admit that the Hufflepuff side has been very successful in keeping its frustration under control," Justin said as he watched the proceedings with a growing air of resignation. "There have hardly been any penalties in this match. Play resumes with Derwent in possession of the Quaffle for Hufflepuff…Timothy is scoreless in today's match-up; on the whole, however, he has been an offensive force for Hufflepuff. I think we'll definitely see him in the lineup again next year."

Timothy was barely halfway through the field when Ron Weasley plucked the Quaffle easily out of his arms and made off with it again. "Wait 'til I get my growth spurt, you…" the Hufflepuff Chaser muttered darkly as he raced to the goalposts.

Hex, too, was racing toward the Hufflepuff goal when the Snitch sped past his nose. "Holstrom seems to have seen the Snitch," Justin reported. "He's pointing and saying something to Maeve Moondaughter…both Seekers speed off in pursuit—"

__

"Ladies and gentlemen, Angelina Johnson scores!" Lee yelled, wresting the megaphone out of Justin's hands. "The Gryffindor supporters go wild and the score is 220-60 in favor of Gryffindor! Unless Hufflepuff scores two more goals, the Snitch doesn't matter!"

"The Snitch will always matter, Lee," Justin insisted, his eyes following the Seekers' movements. "Finding it first is a testament to a Seeker's reflexes, speed, and skill. Potter and Moondaughter have caught sight of it now and are racing toward it—they stop, it's gone…they split up to look for it…elsewhere on the field, Padgett turns back another shot by Johnson…"

__

"There, near the Gryffindor stands!" Lee screamed. Hermione, Ginny and Parvati were shouting to Harry and pointing to something in front of them. _"The Snitch is in front of the Gryffindor stands!"_

"Potter checks Moondaughter," Justin reported tensely. "He's nearer the stands…attempts a Wronski Feint—_Moondaughter doesn't buy it!_" He jumped to his feet along with the rest of the screaming, stamping Hufflepuffs. _"She's seen the Snitch and is speeding toward the Gryffindor stands! Potter pulls out of his dive too late—the Snitch is still there—you're going too fast, Maeve! OW! MOTHER…!"_

All play stopped when Maeve hurtled into the stands, knocking over quite a few spectators. Save for groans and squeals of pain, the field was dead silent. 

A pale arm emerged from a tangle of black robes and Gryffindor scarves, holding something aloft. Everyone began to cheer as Maeve extricated herself from a heap of Gryffindor fans with the Golden Snitch in her hand and a bleak look on her face.

Madam Hooch's whistle blew. The game — and the season — was over.

****

Concluding Remarks: Thank Merlin the season is over! I had quite a time thinking up interesting things to put into these matches. This final match especially turned my head with all the calculations I had to do. I hope you enjoyed my attempts at sports writing, at any rate. 

I'm sorry I couldn't make Hufflepuff win the Quidditch Cup, but they can't win everything. (I don't want to turn them into another Gryffindor!)

And with all that quidditch stuff out of the way, that means the real interesting parts can begin! :D Stay tuned! ~ Ara Kane


	17. The Agony of Defeat

****

Disclaimer: I only own Hex, Maeve, Peter and the Hufflepuff quidditch team. JK Rowling owns Hogwarts, and everyone else who lives in it. I also own the Tirelessness Potion, but I do not own Gatorade or the name 7-Eleven. _Unfogging the Future_ belongs to Cassandra Vablatsky, while Bathilda Bagshot claims authorship of _A History of Magic_.

****

Technical Notes: I'm not much of a pet person, so I don't know how cats behave. I based Norman's behavior on what our dachshund Poopee (I didn't name her!) does when she wants to be let out of the house. So I suppose this chapter is dedicated to Poopee :D

__

The Agony of Defeat

Maeve grimaced as a few madly screaming Gryffindors helped her back onto her broomstick. 

Hex reached her side as the rest of the Gryffindor team raced toward Harry. He kissed her forehead and gave her a hug. "Are you OK?" he asked her quietly.

She looked down at the Snitch in her small palm and nodded. 

"Damn. I was hoping you would throw a tantrum again."

Maeve managed a shaky laugh. "Maybe later."

They joined the rest of the Hufflepuff team on the ground and applauded the winners. Up in the stands, Lee was announcing the results of the championship match. "Gryffindor wins the match, 220-110, and the championship; but Hufflepuff Seeker Maeve Moondaughter ends the game with a daring catch in the Gryffindor stands. This has been a marvelous season for everyone, especially for Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, Fred and George Weasley, Margaret Abbott, and yours truly, as we will all be bidding Hogwarts goodbye at the end of term. It's been a real pleasure, everyone. This is Lee Jordan, signing off."

Hex watched Angelina and Katie cling to each other and sob. The seventh year Gryffindors were all choked up. As he fell in line with the rest of the Hufflepuffs to shake hands with their opponents, he realized he wasn't jealous, angry or frustrated. He was just tired, relieved it was over, and…something else. 

He turned to the rest of his teammates. "Is it just me or do you feel kind of satisfied?"

Peggy smiled despite her brimming eyes. All around them, yellow flowers and canary feathers began to fall as the Hufflepuffs showed their appreciation for their house team. "As strange as it sounds, Hex, I do feel satisfied."

"You did wonderfully, Peggy," Samira told the other girl, giving her a hug. "We all did."

They shook hands with the Gryffindor players. "Good game," Hex murmured to each one in turn. When he came to Ron, the two boys grinned at each other. "Great game, Red. You were unbelievable."

"Thanks," Ron said, his face flushed as red as his hair. "You Hufflepuffs put up quite a fight."

"We're going to get you guys next year."

"We'll see about that."

"I'm glad it's over, though."

"I'm not. Now I'll have to concentrate on studying for the O.W.L.s!"

After the handshakes and congratulations, Gryffindor went on to claim the quidditch cup from Dumbledore. Peter and Susan, followed by the rest of the Hufflepuffs, came down from the bleachers to console their house team. "All right, Maeve?" Peter asked as they approached. "That was quite a tumble."

"I'm all right," she said, smiling faintly. 

Susan gave Maeve her Golden Horn and a hug. "I'm sorry we didn't win."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Hex told her. "We gave it our best shot. It was a job well done."

Peter grinned. "And Hufflepuff will be coming back next year."

"Damn right we are." 

With the quidditch hype finally all over, it was time to get back to work. The fifth and seventh years were especially pressured as they studied for their upcoming examinations. 

The Gryffindors were, understandably, on a high all through the study sessions. Winning the quidditch championship had put them ahead of Slytherin in the race for the House Cup. The Hufflepuffs were disappointed at the loss, but were proud of just to have made it all the way to the finals. With most of the Gryffindor team leaving Hogwarts at the end of term, they were looking forward to the next season. But of course, Hex, Maeve and Robert had to pass their O.W.L.s first.

"I can't think anymore," a Ravenclaw girl complained during another O.W.L. study session, held after classes in the Great Hall. 

"The O.W.L.s are in ten days!" Hermione said, opening a very big, very thick book. "We can't stop studying _now_!"

Hex groaned, leaned his forehead on _Intermediate Arithmancy _and closed his eyes. "Herm, you are already the O.W.L. Queen, OK? Everyone in this room concedes the title to you."

"Not everyone," Peter chuckled, cocking his head toward where Maeve was nearly invisible behind a book rivaling Hermione's. "Look over there."

"Look over where?" Hex mumbled against his book.

"Open your eyes."

"I don't want to."

"What are you doing, anyway?" Neville asked.

"I'm hoping that if I put my head on the book, the answers will just seep into my brain." Hex heard someone snigger behind him. "Don't knock it 'til you've tried it, bro." 

Maeve looked up from her big, thick book. "What's the formula for the Tirelessness Potion?"

"A few drops infusion of aloes," Hex replied before anyone else could say anything, "an ounce of powdered gingerroot for clarity of mind. A few horse hairs, drop of hippogriff blood for stamina. Pinch of ground poppy seeds to feel no pain. Mix until everything is dissolved, add water, boil until opaque silver in color. Drink as necessary." He chuckled. "Or you could just buy a Gatorade at the 7-Eleven."

"Your head is on your Arithmancy book," Terry told him as a wide-eyed Neville plonked facedown onto his Potions textbook.

"So? It doesn't mean I don't know what's in a Tirelessness Potion."

  


The fifth years went through the next few days with the O.W.L.s hanging over their heads like a twenty-ton anvil. "I don't think I can take much more of this," Ernie said one evening, looking green. He had developed nervous stomachaches from the tension over the O.W.L.s.

"Try to relax your mind," Lavender advised him. "Think about next week, when it'll all be over."

"Next week, we'll all be worrying about whether or not we passed," Seamus said.

"Shut up, Seamus."

Ron snorted impatiently and shut his copy of _Unfogging the Future_ with a final-sounding snap. "Well, _I'm_ done for tonight. If I try to study any more, my head will explode."

"Me, too," Harry said.

Hermione managed to tear herself from her books and looked at her friend with some alarm. "Your scar isn't hurting, is it, Harry?"

The other boy smiled reassuringly. "No. I'm really just tired. I think I'll go to bed."

There was a chorus of good nights as the two Gryffindors left for their dormitory. Seamus, Parvati and Lavender soon followed and little by little, the study group began to break up. 

Peter rubbed his forehead. "I think I should be going on up, myself."

"Wait for me," Hex told him, beginning to get his things together. "You coming, Maeve?" he asked her. She, too, had stood and begun to put her books away.

She shook her head. "I need to look up something in the library." Maeve was almost as tense as Hermione over the upcoming O.W.L.s. It looked as if she did want to challenge the other girl for the title of O.W.L. Queen after all.

"Can't it wait? It's almost time for lights-out."

"I have to find it out tonight," she said, "or I won't be able to sleep." 

Hex looked at his friend, noting the dark circles under her eyes. "Well, better make it quick. You're starting to look like a zombie."

Maeve made a face at him. "I promise I'll be back before lights-out."

Peter and Hex said their goodbyes before making their way to the Hufflepuff dormitory. As usual, the suit of armor blocked the door by assuming a battle stance and brandishing his ax. "Wirtleweed," Hex said. Given the correct password, the suit of armor put up his ax and let them through.

Almost everyone was already upstairs and the common room was deserted. Hex threw his books and himself onto one of the slouchy couches. "You use the bathroom first, Pete," he told the other boy. "I'll wait and make sure Maeve comes back."

His friend grinned crookedly at him. "Are you hoping for a good night kiss?"

Hex blushed and waved Peter off. "Get lost, Pete."

The big boy chuckled and went on upstairs. He opened his copy of _A History of Magic_ and settled down to study and wait for Maeve to return.

History had never been his best subject, but Hex forced himself to read up on elf treaties and goblin rebellions. A few minutes in, however, the words began to run together. "I'll just rest my eyes a bit," he muttered, leaning his head on a fat velvet cushion.

When he opened his eyes again, the common room was dark save for the dying fire in the grate. Lights-out had come and gone while he slept.

Was Maeve back already? Hex rose to his feet, stretching his cramped muscles and drawing his wand. _"Lumos,"_ he whispered, and his wand tip lit up, casting a faint blue light. 

With ages of experience from living with Hank, he picked his way silently over to the staircase leading to the girls' dormitory, but stopped at the first step. Checking out the girls' dorm was the easiest way to find out if Maeve had indeed come back, but he didn't want anyone waking up all of a sudden and thinking he was leading a one-man panty raid. (A/N: He's fifteen. I'm sure he knows what a panty raid is.)

Hex chuckled quietly and congratulated himself on being awake enough to think of that. Instead, he pulled the door open and stuck his head in the castle corridor. 

Hogwarts late at night was something out of a horror movie, with flickering torches casting eerie shadows on the walls and floors. Standing at attention to one side, gleaming in the torchlight, was the suit of armor that guarded the dormitory entrance. "Uh, excuse me," he said to the armor, feeling stupid for talking to an inanimate object.

The suit of armor, however, turned its helmeted head toward him.

"Uh, did you see Maeve Moondaughter come in here?" Hex asked the armor. "You know, small, pretty girl…long brown hair…?"

The helmet shook from side to side, and Hex's insides went cold.

"Where do you think she could have gone?" Peter whispered, tying the belt of his dressing gown. After consulting the suit of armor, Hex wasted no time in waking him. The big boy had roused immediately.

"She said she was going to the library," Hex whispered back. 

"Maybe she fell asleep in there."

"Yeah, maybe."

They ventured out into the corridor and set off for the library, keeping to the shadows to avoid being seen. Hex hoped neither Filch nor Mrs. Norris would see them; or if Mrs. Norris did, that Norman would be nearby to work his magic on the mean, dust-colored she-cat.

Halfway to the library, they saw an eerie silver glow and skidded to a stop. The two boys hid themselves in a small side corridor, trying not to make a sound.

However, as the glow drew nearer, they heard singing. The silvery form of the Fat Friar was gliding down the quiet hallway toward them, singing his usual hymn. Hex jumped out from the small passageway, startling the ghost. _"Holy shit!"_ the jolly specter exclaimed, his eyes going as round as the rest of him.

"Sorry, Friar," Hex said as Peter emerged from their hiding place.

"What are you doing out of bed?" the ghost demanded, putting his hands where his hips used to be.

"We're going to the library," Peter told him. "Maeve didn't come back after lights-out and we're going to take her back to the dormitory before Filch catches her."

"Well, bless you for your loyalty, my sons, but why don't I just go to her myself and you boys go on back to bed? We can't afford to lose any house points, you know."

"Yeah, we know," Hex said, "but what if she needs to be carried or something?"

"Oh, well, I wouldn't be able to do that," the Fat Friar admitted, looking through his misty hands at the two boys. "All right, come along, then."

They advanced stealthily to the library, shushing the Friar once because he started to sing again, and entered the dark room. Hex and Peter lit their wands and began to search the tables and between the shelves. 

No Maeve.

"She's not in here!" Hex hissed. His forehead was breaking out into cold sweat and his heart was beginning to pound.

The Fat Friar's round face was filled with concern. "The poor lost lamb. Where could she be?"

__

"I don't know!"

"Sssshhhh!" Peter whispered. "Don't start yelling or we'll have Filch on our necks. Where else could she have gone?"

"She said she was only going to check something out in the library before going to bed." Hex frowned. "Maybe Malfoy kidnapped her."

"Why would Malfoy kidnap Maeve?"

"God knows — sorry, Friar." The two boys traded worried looks. "This is getting scary."

"I shall check the Slytherin dormitory," the Fat Friar told them. "You return to your dormitory and alert Professor Sprout."

Peter nodded and grabbed Hex's arm. "Yes, Friar. Thank you. Let's go, Hex."

They went back out to the corridor, running now. A few yards from the entrance to the Hufflepuff dormitory, a tiny _meow_ brought them skidding to another stop. _Mrs. Norris!_

It wasn't Mrs. Norris, however, but Norman. The one-eared cat ran to them and dug his claws into Hex's leg. "What the hell—" he tried to pull the cat off but Norman refused to budge. "Let go, Norman!"

Norman mewed loudly, released Hex and walked a few feet away, his tail high. The cat paused, looked over his shoulder, and mewed again.

"I think he wants us to follow him," Peter said. "Maybe he knows where Maeve is."

Hex watched his friend follow the cat. "Well, you're the animal expert," he said, going after them.

Norman ran toward the western side of the castle. He led them to the side entrances the led to the courtyards, practice fields, and the Forbidden Forest. Hex sickened at the memory of the place. "You don't think the Lestranges found her, did you?"

Peter turned toward him. "They couldn't have. McGonagall said they were caught, remember?"

"She said the woman got caught. No one said anything about the husband."

Norman mewled and scratched at a heavy oaken door.

"Don't do that, Norman. I'll get you a scratching post."

Apparently angry and frustrated, the cat purred so loudly that the sound echoed off the massive stone walls. The two boys froze.

Hex's nerves, already fraught with tension, tightened even more at what Norman had called. He and Peter stood there like lumps as Peeves the poltergeist came floating down the corridor, wearing his wide, annoying grin. "Oooh, ickle kiddies out of bed!" the poltergeist sneered. "Professorhead won't like this."

Peter tried to reason with the ghost. "Peeves, our friend may be in danger and we're going to try to save her, so maybe you could just let us go quietly and—"

"Quiiiietly?" Peeves asked in a sickly sweet voice. "But Peeves doesn't like _quiiiietly_."

"Well, we need to save our friend! Don't you have even just one ounce of compas—"

__

"PEEVES DON'T LIKE QUIETLY!" he bellowed. The poltergeist cackled evilly as his voice echoed off the walls as Norman's had earlier. _"PEEVES DON'T LIKE NAUGHTY KIDDIES OUT OF BED!"_

"Oh, screw you," Hex said, pulling the door open. Norman darted out into the night. "Let's go, Pete."

"What about Peeves?"

"All that yelling is bound to bring someone. Maybe it'll wake Dumbledore or McGonagall. If Maeve's in danger, we'll need their help. She's more important than house points right now."

They lit their wands again and followed Norman out onto the castle grounds. "Any sign of her yet?" Hex panted. The open field was empty.

"Nothing," Peter said, "but Norman looks like he knows where she went."

"I sure hope he does."

They ran past the quidditch pitch and past Hagrid's cabin. There was no time to bang on the door and try to wake the huge man. Hex fought against the cold fear that gripped him as he set foot in the Forbidden Forest once again, forcing himself instead to try and remember every curse he had ever learned. 

The close-growing forest made it nearly impossible to see anything. Hex made sure he was close enough to Norman to keep his tail in sight at all times. He was doing a good job of it, too, until he stumbled over a tree root. Peter plowed right into his back and they went sprawling. "Ow! Damn—are you OK?" Hex asked his friend.

"Just fine," the big boy replied, picking himself up. "Sorry about that. Where's Norman?"

"Uh, I think we lost him. What do we—" Just then, Norman's angry meow tore through the night. They flattened themselves against a tree. "What was that?"

"Sssshhh," Peter hissed. They put out their wands and listened, barely breathing, as a rustling in the bushes, coupled with Norman's angry hisses, grew louder and louder. Whoever — or whatever — had him was coming closer.

"What are you doing here, little pussycat?" Argus Filch's voice asked. He sounded like he was high. 

Hex frowned. _Little pussycat?_ Since when did Filch sweet-talk any animal besides Mrs. Norris?

Filch emerged from some nearby bushes with Norman in one hand and a torch in the other. "Oh, damn, of all the people to find us," Hex grumbled. Peter poked him in the ribs to shut him up. They were still hidden in the shadows…there was still a chance that Filch wouldn't see them.

But then Norman mewled, causing Filch to stop. The unkempt caretaker turned with agonizing slowness in their direction, gradually covering them in torchlight. "What's this?" he asked in the same vacant voice. "People?"

Hex and Peter looked at each other. For some reason, he didn't seem to recognize them as Hogwarts students even though Hex was still in his school robes. They both tightened their grips on their wands.

Filch continued to look at them blankly for a moment, then a grimace of pure hatred flooded his features. "Kill them." 

__

What the…?

Filch raised his voice. _"Intruders! To me, comrades! Intruders!"_

"Shit," Hex spat. He pointed his wand at the caretaker. _"Fermio mandibula!"_

The caretaker's jaws clamped shut, muffling his yells. He clawed at his face, trying to part his lips, but the Lockjaw Curse was too strong.

Nevertheless, the damage had been done. All around them, the forest was alive with rustling sounds as Filch's "comrades" ran to his aid. "Where did all these people come from?" Hex asked as he and Peter stood back to back, waiting for their would-be killers to arrive.

The bushes parted again and, without even stopping to look, Hex zapped the newcomer with a Full Body-bind. He fell over and did much to slow down the ones behind him, but they were coming faster than the two boys could deal with them. Soon they found themselves surrounded.

"Luckily none of them seem to have wands," Hex said as he put the Jelly-legs Curse on two at a time. "Or they're just too out of it to use them."

"They're still slowing us down!" Peter's back and voice were tense with fear. "We have to get Maeve. Do you see her anywhere?"

"No. How are we going to get past all these people?"

The big boy did not reply. Instead, Hex heard a blood-curdling roar and he found himself leaning against something huge, warm and definitely not Peter. It was a bear and it was flinging their attackers around like old socks. Peter was gone.

__

"Holy crap!" he yelled, backing away from it and almost stumbling into the arms of one of Filch's cronies. "Pete, where are you?"

"Go!" Peter was back. "Find Norman and follow him!" And he turned himself back into a bear.

Hex gaped at his friend for a moment and began cursing their attackers again, bellowing for Norman. The cat jumped on his head, almost scalping him, and then glommed onto the face of an oncoming attacker, disabling him long enough to let Hex past.

Over Peter's terrible roars, Hex could hear Norman purring urgently. He took one last look at his other furry friend, wading in zoned-out attackers, and began to run after his cat.

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Concluding Remarks: Oooh! Suspense! I've only got a couple more chapters after this one; so yes, the showdown is coming.

And yes, Peter Brandegoris is an Animagus. He told me didn't want to be one, but I thought he deserved some distinction for being such a good friend. :D I admit that it's really sudden but I wanted him to be special in some way, so I hope you'll bear with me. 


	18. Moon Daughter

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Disclaimer: I only own Hex, Maeve, Maeve's mother and the Tectonica Spell. JK Rowling owns Mr. Lestrange (I just gave him a name) and all the Unforgivable Curses.

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Technical Notes: I named Maeve's mother Leda after the mother of Helen of Troy. Zeus courted her in the guise of a swan. It just hit me how both the mythological Leda and the Leda in my story both got conned.

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Author's Notes: Finally, Chapter 18! I'm sorry I kept everyone waiting so long — computer problems at home and all that rot :-( Everyone was so nice in their reviews that I was just itching to post this next chapter! So, anyway, here it is. I hope you find it worth the wait!

Thanks to Tasia for noting my mathematical mistakes in Chapter 16. The thing about standings really confused me, so I really wasn't sure if it was correct when I posted it. I'm afraid math was never one of my strong points. It also just occurred to me that I asked people to "bear with me" when I was talking about Peter being an Animagus. Get it? Animagus…bear…bear with me :D Anyway, on with the show!

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Moon Daughter

Norman led him into a clearing. Hex could see Maeve standing by herself in the moonlight. "Maeve!" he called, running up to her and taking the girl in his arms. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Here?" Her voice had the same alarmingly faraway quality as Filch's did.

"Yes, here." Hex shook her slightly. "What are you doing here? You were supposed to be in the library! What am I talking about? You're supposed to be in _bed_!"

"What am I doing here?" Maeve repeated softly. To his great relief, her eyes started to focus. "Hex?"

__

"Yes! It's Hex! What are you doing here?"

"I…" Her brow furrowed. "I was in the library, and then I suddenly decided to take a walk. I don't know why I—"

"She's come to meet her daddy," said a disembodied male voice, smooth as a radio announcer's.

Hex started and thrust Maeve behind him, holding his wand at the ready. Norman stood hissing at their feet. "Who's there?"

"I am here." A trim little man emerged from the shadows. Like the first person Hex had met in the Forbidden Forest, he was very thin and unkempt, with ragged gray robes. "You're Selenius Lestrange, aren't you?" he asked the man.

"At your service," Lestrange replied, sweeping an elaborate bow. "And you are…?"

"I'm…Hex." _Don't tell this guy your name,_ he reminded himself even as he felt a strange probing in his mind. _If he's anything like his wife, you don't want to be in his power._

"No, you aren't." The thin man looked at him closely.

"Sure I am. People call me Hex all the time."

"That isn't your real name."

"Well, it suits us all just fine, right, Maeve? So deal with it."

Lestrange shook his head reproachfully at Maeve. "Is this boy correct, my dear? You never bothered to find out his real name?"

"Hex _is_ his real name," she replied.

"No, it is not, and this you should have sensed ages ago. _Tsk, tsk._ I am ashamed of you, girl. I expected more of my daughter."

Maeve frowned. "I'm not your daughter."

He flinched slightly, but managed a winning smile. "Ah, but you are. Look at yourself…and then look at me." Lestrange waved his wand, conjuring up a mirror out of thin air. Maeve felt in her pocket and gasped. The wand in his hand was hers.

Hex and Maeve looked into the mirror. Lestrange's reflection was alongside theirs although he stood a few feet away. He was pallid and gaunt from many years in Azkaban, but there was no mistaking the languidness of movement, the dark hair and golden-green eyes. "The resemblance is striking, is it not?"

But Maeve still shook her head. "You can't be my father."

The thin man flinched again. Hex noted that her denials seemed to be hurting him. When he recovered, his eyes began to glitter dangerously, just like Maeve's did when she was about to argue. "But I am, my dear," he told her. "Why else did the Malfoys provide for you all these years? When I was taken to Azkaban, they took you and your poor mother in as a special favor to me. Why else is your name _Moondaughter_? Being bastard-born, you can never be recognized as a true Lestrange; and so your mother took the next best choice and named you herself. _Selenius…Moon…Moon-daughter…Selenius' daughter._" Lestrange smiled, showing small, sharp teeth. "Apparently, Leda had a bit more imagination than I thought. Of course, it was her purse, not her imagination, that interested me."

Hex supposed Maeve's mother's name had been Leda, because he heard her gasp. Slowly, she moved out from behind Hex to get a better look at the man claiming to be her father. Hex grabbed her hand in his free one, ready to drag her with him in case they had to run away.

"Have I passed the test, my daughter?" Lestrange asked silkily. "The evidence I have presented is irrefutable: my knowledge of you and your past, your poor dead mother's name, your very face and form, and your beautiful gold-green eyes. I was so proud when Lucius told me that you had my eyes." Then he toned down his grin as if it had a built-in dimmer. "It is time you learned to use them properly."

"Whatever do you mean?" Maeve quavered.

"What do you think?" Apparently, the guy was really fond of dramatic questions. "Why else did my Eris try and take you to me? Why else did I myself come for you?"

"Will you just get to the point already?" Hex snapped.

Every line in Lestrange's face grew rigid. "The time has come for you to take your rightful place as my daughter," he told her, his voice cracking like a whip, "and join us in the service the of the Dark Lord."

"You have got to be kidding." 

Hex found himself on the receiving end of a golden-green death glare. "You, boy, are too talkative for your own good."

"And you're too dumb for your own good. She _knows_ Voldemort's bad news. She's not going to sell her soul to the devil just because you told her to. Tell him, Maeve."

Maeve gulped and looked nervously at Hex. She was shaken, never having met a blood relative before, but she squeezed his hand and raised her small chin resolutely. "No."

__

"No?" Lestrange thundered. "You dare say no to your own father?" He glared at their linked hands. "You would spurn your own flesh and blood in favor of this—this _Mudblood_?"

"That Mudblood thing is _really_ getting old, dude," Hex said.

"You are not my father," Maeve said. Her voice wasn't quavering as much as it had earlier.

"I am your father, Maeve," the thin man cajoled. The radio-announcer voice was back. "Look at yourself, and then look at me."

"No, you are not. I have no father."

"Look at yourself, and then look at me!" 

"Can't you think of anything else to say?" Hex asked him.

"You may have sired me," Maeve told him flatly, "but that does not make you my father. I have no attachments to you."

"You spurn your own father?" Lestrange asked. Hex's wand arm tensed. The honeyed tone of his voice was still there, but it was dangerously close to slipping. "My dear, what would your poor _grandmere_ say? All your uncles, your cousins? You would break all their hearts by turning your back on your family?"

"If they're anything like you or the Malfoys, I don't need them," she said coldly. 

"That's telling him, Maeve," Hex encouraged her.

Maeve smiled up at him, but her grip on Hex's hand was so tight it hurt. "I have Hex, I have Peter, I have enough family here at Hogwarts," she told Lestrange. "I am nothing like you."

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"NO!" Lestrange screamed, all control gone, wildly waving Maeve's wand. _"Tectonica!"_

There was a loud rumbling and the earth shook, almost knocking them off-balance, and a fissure appeared beneath Hex's feet. He swore and managed to take himself and Maeve out of the way before the crack widened into a gaping ravine, the bottom of which was lost in the darkness.

__

"Expelliarmus!" 

Hex bit off another choice expletive as his wand flew out of his hand and into Lestrange's. 

__

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

Maeve screamed and he felt her hand wrenched out of his. Using the girl's own wand, Lestrange raised her high up in the air and held her right above the ravine. She looked so small and pale, hovering in mid-air, staring down into the emptiness with wide eyes.

"She's not going to be of any use to you if she's dead, Lestrange," Hex managed to say. 

"You've corrupted her, boy," the thin man snarled. There was an feral glitter in his golden eyes. "She has closed her will to me and refuses to help me."

"Why do you need help? You're doing fine causing trouble all by yourself."

Lestrange's face grew cold. _"Finite—"_

"No!" Hex yelled before the spell that would send Maeve to the bottom of the ravine was completed. "What do you want her for, anyway?"

"Is it not obvious?" Now that he had Hex's undivided attention, Lestrange was back with the dramatic questions. "I am the Vanguard of the Dark Lord. It is my task to prepare the minds and hearts of his followers for his will. My dearest Maeve will assist me in my work, using her abilities to bend the young people of Hogwarts to Lord Voldemort's will. And he will see to it that we are richly rewarded when he returns to power."

__

"No!" Maeve cried. _"I am nothing like you and I have no wish to be!"_

"Shut up, Maeve!" Hex yelled. If she made Lestrange mad enough, he was going to drop her into the ditch.

"You may just change your mind," Lestrange replied coldly. To Hex's great relief, the thin man set her down safely on the ground. Maeve drew a shaky sigh of relief and tried to run to Hex, but Lestrange waved her wand again. "_Impedimenta!"_ he said, imprisoning her behind an impenetrable, invisible wall. "Now, my dear girl, let us see how cooperative you will be after I've done with your beau over here."

"No! Leave him out of this!" Her voice was slightly muffled by the Shield Charm. "Hex, run!"

"I'm not leaving you here," Hex said, keeping one eye on them while looking around for a possible weapon with the other.

"How gallant," Lestrange drawled. _"Accio! Accio! Accio!"_ There was a terrible grin on his face as he perversely moved the mirror, large rocks, tree branches, and even small twigs beyond Hex's reach. "Are you still feeling gallant now, my unarmed young pup?"

"I'm just fine, thanks," he replied flippantly, but kept a wary eye on Lestrange.

The thin man, however, put up his wand. "You have strength," he observed grudgingly. "I can see how Maeve was able to resist me."

"I didn't have anything to do with that. Maeve has a mind of her own."

"_Au contraire,_ my dear boy. She drew her strength from you." The glitter in Lestrange's eyes grew speculative. "What would she do if that strength was gone?"

"No!" Maeve screamed, pounding on her unseen prison. "Leave him alone!"

"Relax, my daughter," he told her, his voice growing honeyed again, "I will not hurt him — if he cooperates."

"What do you want?" Hex asked him tersely.

"Your name." Lestrange arched a fine eyebrow at the boy. "I see getting it out of you won't be easy."

"It's going to be impossible."

The thin man laughed. "Never say _impossible_ to the one holding the wand." He waved the wand in his hand. _"Imperio!"_

Maeve's alarmed cry rang only faintly in Hex's ears as he felt a lassitude take him over. Everything, even his own body, faded away pleasantly and he became nothing more than a crystalline egg, suspended in the liquid depths within the outer shell of his body.

He floated there for a few moments, until a soft voice disturbed the peace. _Say your name,_ was its most irresistible whisper, _say your name…_"My name," Hex heard his voice say, "my name…"

__

No! The girl pounding on nothing was shaking her head wildly. Who was she?

__

Say your name… "My name…"

The girl shook her head again. _No! _Hex felt himself smile at her. For some reason it was a lot easier to listen to her than to the little voice in his head.

__

Say your name! The voice was becoming more insistent. Hex's face crumpled as he winced. It was like that voice had grabbed hold of him and pulled.

__

No! 

His face was wet and his teeth were clenched as the battle raged in his head. He felt his breath rush out of his body. "My n-name," he gasped, staring at Maeve, "is Hex."

__

"It is, is it?" Lestrange demanded, his expression wild at his defeat. He leveled his wand at the boy. _"Crucio!"_

Both Hex and Maeve screamed and he sank to the ground, once again in the throes of the Torturing Curse. Lestrange stood over him and laughed. "How do you feel now, boy?" he taunted.

Hex rolled onto his back, his hands clamped to his head in an attempt to keep it on. Despite the white-hot pain that drilled to his very bones, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus. "Just fine, thanks," he ground out.

"Lovely. Are you feeling any more cooperative?"

"N-not really." Lestrange kicked him in the ribs and Hex yelled again as the pain was magnified a thousand-fold. He stared unseeingly at Maeve and willed himself to breathe.

"You are not ready to tell me your name?"

His face twisted as he glared up at his torturer. "N-never."

Lestrange kicked him again. "I am tiring of this, boy. _What is your name?_"

__

"It's Hex, dammit!" 

"Indeed?" Those golden eyes were toxic as he leveled the wand at Hex. "Let us see what your name is when you are—_aaaaaahhhhhh!_"

There was a feline snarl and Norman made a spectacular leap onto Lestrange's head, spitting and clawing. He screamed and flailed about, trying to dislodge the cat without hurting himself. 

Hex picked himself up as the Cruciatus Curse was broken. Breathing hard, he watched the thin man pry one paw off his face, and another. Then, ignoring the protests coming from every fiber of his body, Hex launched himself at Lestrange as he wrenched Norman off and flung the cat away, leaving bloody furrows raking down his face. The wands in Lestrange's hand bounced off Hex's head as they fell to the ground in a tangle of robes and limbs.

Hex backhanded his opponent across the face. When one of Lestrange's hands grabbed at his face, he bit down into it and locked his own hands around his throat, trying to bang Lestrange's head on the ground.

Lestrange boxed Hex's ears with his free hand and the boy was forced to loosen his hold. The world spun and he found himself on his back, Lestrange's ropy hands around his throat. The thin man, fresh from Azkaban, was not in peak physical condition, but Hex was still weak from the Cruciatus Curse and had difficulty fighting back. 

The boy coughed and tried futilely to pry off the fingers from around his neck. Then he tried to smack Lestrange's ear, but all he could manage was a pitiful slap. Lestrange laughed and squeezed harder. He was Hank Ulster all over again. Hex fought the rising tide of unconsciousness and searched his memory for ways to break the hold. 

Resisting his instincts, Hex let go of Lestrange's hands and thrust his arms up. The thin man swore and twisted away to avoid the stabbing fingers reaching for his eyes, releasing the boy's neck as he did so. Hex grabbed Lestrange's hair with one hand and imprisoned his wrists with the other, shoving Lestrange onto his back again. 

Both combatants were tired, but Hex was younger, bigger, and he was pissed. This man was not Hank Ulster, the boy told himself as he introduced Lestrange to his fist and felt the satisfying give of breaking bone. He wasn't going to lose his home if he fought back this time. Hex had a savage grin of his own as he concentrated on inflicting as much pain as he knew how.

Grunting in pain from his broken nose, Lestrange tried to regain the upper hand, but Hex used the man's own momentum to keep his opponent on his back. He and Lestrange rolled over again and again, their hands locked around each other's throats.

The Impedimenta Curse wore off a moment too late. "Hex!" Maeve cried as she ran to them. "You're too close to the ravine!"

Her white face, mouth open in a silent scream, was the last thing Hex saw before he and Lestrange went over the edge. He felt his arms wrench before the pain exploded throughout his entire body and everything went black.

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Concluding Remarks: Sorry. Got a bit bloodthirsty back there. Stay tuned for the next chapter!


	19. Professor Albus Dumbledore Explains It A...

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Disclaimer: I only own Hex, Maeve, Peter and Norman. JK Rowling owns Hogwarts and everyone else inside. The title of this chapter was ripped off a play we took up in freshman English entitled _Sister Mary Ignatius Explains It All For You_. I'm afraid I've forgotten who wrote it (I studied it six years ago, after all) but I didn't.

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Technical Notes: The description about the school nurse came from my high school yearbook. I'm not saying all nurses are like that.

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Introductory Remarks: This chapter includes the requisite hospital wing scene with Professor Dumbledore. I hope it ties up all the loose ends.

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Professor Albus Dumbledore Explains It All For You

The next time Hex opened his eyes, everything was white. He blinked, and when everything came into focus, he realized he was in the Hogwarts hospital wing. And it was morning.

Hex sat up, ignoring the soreness in his abdomen. How many days had he been here? What happened to Maeve and Peter?

He looked around wildly and sighed in relief, bringing on a twinge from his tender ribs, when he saw that they were occupying the beds on either side of him. To Hex's left, Peter lay on his back, breathing easily. He looked uninjured save for a few scratches, bruises and a nasty bump on his head. On Hex's right, Maeve lay on her side, facing him. The crystal drops in the hollow between her eye and nose made her look as if she had been crying in her sleep.

Hex reached over to try and wipe them away, but a soft footstep sent him scooting back down in bed. Unlike the school nurse back in Brooklyn, who refused to believe you were sick until you threw up on her, Madam Pomfrey refused to believe you were well until you threatened to take a flame-thrower to the hospital wing if she didn't let you out.

However, the newcomer was not Madam Pomfrey, making her rounds, but Professor Dumbledore. He smiled when he saw Hex. "Ah, Mr. Holmstrom. Good to see you're awake at last." He pulled up a chair and sat at Hex's bedside. "Your friends were beginning to worry."

"How long have I been here, Professor?" Hex asked. His voice was weak and rather raspy. When the Headmaster offered him a glass of water, he gulped it down gratefully.

"The three of you were brought in about two days ago. Mr. Brandegoris and Miss Moondaughter have woken up a few times since then, but never at the same time." Dumbledore chuckled quietly. "Madam Pomfrey wasn't very happy at answering the same questions twice."

"Are they both OK?" He looked with some concern at Maeve, who was as pale as the sheets on which she lay.

"Yes, Mr. Holmstrom, they are both fine. Mr. Brandegoris sustained a few injuries from his encounter with Lestrange's minions, but nothing life-threatening."

"He turned himself into a bear and held them off so I could go after Maeve."

"A bear?" Dumbledore looked pleased. "How fitting. Peter has been showing signs of becoming an Animagus for quite a while now, but refused to take lessons from Professor McGonagall." He looked thoughtfully at the big boy. "Peter always was a quiet boy and I suppose he did not want to stand out by having such talents. I'm glad he has decided to use them."

Suddenly, Hex remembered something. "Professor, Mr. Filch—"

"—is all right."

"He wanted to kill us!"

"Argus was acting on Lestrange's orders. When Lestrange died, his hold on Mr. Filch's mind was broken."

Hex felt ill as he remembered falling into the ravine, looking up at Maeve's face. He had not seen where Lestrange had fallen. "So Lestrange is dead?"

"One can only speculate," the headmaster told him. "We were unable to see the bottom of that fissure or if, indeed, it had a bottom."

He shuddered. That could have been him. "How did you get me out?"

"We were lucky. You had fallen on a ledge of some sort only partway down. Miss Moondaughter was trying to levitate you out when I arrived. She is unhurt — physically, at least." Dumbledore looked grave. "But she experienced a lot of stress that night, meeting her father, watching you fight him, fearing you were dead. I am sure you know that it is the psychological scars that heal the slowest."

"You know Lestrange is Maeve's dad?"

"I had suspicions. They do look remarkably alike, of course, and Miss Moondaughter exhibits the same ability to charm others into going her way."

"So what does that mean?"

"Why, nothing. They have the same abilities, that is all."

"Maeve wouldn't admit that Lestrange was her dad. She just said he _sired_ her."

"So he must have. However, that does not make him her father. A bond between a man and his child must be deeper than blood for him to become a father, you know."

"No, I don't." He had had no such bond with any of his foster parents. In fact, he'd never had such a bond with any of the adults he knew…except maybe Tiny. _Did Tiny count?_ Hex fidgeted with his blankets as the headmaster continued to smile benignly at him. "Professor…Lestrange tried to make me tell him my real name. He tried really hard to get it out of me."

"Did you tell him?"

"No. What I want to know is, why did he want to know it so badly?"

"I already told you on your first visit here, Mr. Holmstrom. Knowledge of your real name would have given him power over you. Selenius Lestrange is one of the very few who can bend people to their will using only the knowledge of one's real name. Perhaps he had some siren blood in him, but so little is known about sirens that I am not too sure. It would make an interesting course of study, would it not?" Dumbledore smiled. "I expect it really annoyed Lestrange to have to use the Imperius Curse on you."

"So he was able to control Filch, and Maeve, and all those other people, because he knew their names?"

"Almost, but not quite. He does not need to know it personally. The name only needs to be said."

"And since my name was never said in the magical world, he had no power over me?"

"That is correct. If he had power over you, then he would have been able to control you as he had Mr. Filch. And Miss Moondaughter would not have had the strength to resist him later on."

A new thought occurred to Hex. "Professor, if Lestrange didn't have power over me because he didn't know my name, how come Maeve did? She was helping me resist Lestrange while I was under Imperius. But I never told _anyone_ what my real name was."

Dumbledore smiled. "I expect Miss Moondaughter exerts _another_ kind of power over you, Mr. Holmstrom." He paused to admire the vase of deep violet irises at Maeve's bedside, a present that could only have come from Professor Sprout. "She is a very beautiful young lady, after all — both inside and out." He chuckled as a dull flush stole over Hex's cheeks. "Well, I believe I shall leave you with that very interesting thought—"

"Wait, Professor," the boy said before Dumbledore could get up. "One more thing. Hagrid told me the whole thing about hiding my name was a new policy of yours. Does that mean all the Muggle-borns in Hogwarts had to change their names, too?"

"Only the first years who entered this year, besides yourself. I'm afraid it was too late for those already in Hogwarts."

"Why did you make us hide our names? You couldn't have known Lestrange was coming."

"Indeed I did not," the headmaster admitted. "But, with Lord Voldemort on the rise, it was one way to protect the Muggle-born from Death Eaters who could be searching for their families. I doubt if Lestrange would have tried to recruit Muggle-borns for the Death Eaters, but he could have manipulated them to his advantage nevertheless." Dumbledore smiled. "Is there anything else you wish to know?"

"Well…yeah." Hex paused for a minute to organize the thoughts boiling in his brain. "Lestrange could have been stopped by any one of us, provided we could resist him. So why am I here? Why did you let me enter as a fifth year and everything?"

"Ah." The headmaster looked sincerely into his eyes. "Are you here in fulfillment of an age-old prophecy? Because your parents were wizards? Or for some other, similar reason? I'm afraid, Mr. Holmstrom, that the answer is no to all those questions.

"We don't have that many age-old prophecies, and most of them are too cryptic to understand anyway. And I'm afraid I know less about your parents than you do." Dumbledore smiled again. "I'm flattered that you think I have all the answers, but I do not. What I do know is that you were a lost young man with untapped powers, and you needed Hogwarts as much as it needed you."

Hex thought back to the night, many lifetimes ago, when he had found the Hogwarts letter under his pillow. "So you have no idea why I'm here."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Holmstrom, but I do not. Like you, I can only speculate. Do you know the original owner of the suit of armor that guards the Hufflepuff dormitories?"

The boy shook his head, wondering at the change in subject.

"The armor belonged to Lady Helga Hufflepuff, one of the Hogwarts Four. Its shield bears the emblem of the badger, Lady Hufflepuff's coat of arms and symbol of Hufflepuff House." Dumbledore chuckled as Hex's eyes widened. "Legend typecasts Lady Hufflepuff as a gentle, hardworking, loyal woman, and she was indeed all that. But yes, the armor was hers, and she used it well."

"What has that got to do with me?"

"Well, Mr. Holmstrom, _I_ may not have had any ulterior motives for bringing you to Hogwarts; but perhaps Lady Hufflepuff did. Perhaps it was time to debunk the Hufflepuff myth."

"Professor?" Hex asked again as Dumbledore rose to leave. 

"Yes?"

"One last thing, I promise." Hex looked earnestly up at the headmaster. "You know, all this talk about armor…hiding my real name was like my armor, and I hope I used it well, but I don't think I need it anymore." He turned to look at his friends, still asleep on either side of him. "I think—I mean, I _want_ to start using my real name again. I think I'll be strong enough to handle the consequences."

To that, Dumbledore made no reply. He only smiled, nodded, and left the hospital wing.

The rest of Hex's stay in the hospital wing would have been peaceful if he hadn't realized the O.W.L.s were near. Madam Pomfrey forbade him from summoning his books and wouldn't let any of their visitors bring them, decreeing that her patients needed to rest and not worry about examinations. When Hex protested, she threatened to sedate him, and he had to content himself with lying in bed and trying to recall everything the study group had discussed. 

On the day of the O.W.L.s, Hex dragged himself out of bed. Peter had risen ahead of him and was probably already in the Great Hall, cramming with the rest of the fifth years.

Madam Pomfrey fed him his morning gruel and helped him into his school robes, muttering darkly about the lack of special privileges for the sick. Although they had been in the hospital wing for the past few days and were unable to study, Professor McGonagall had refused to let Peter, Hex and Maeve take the exams at a later date. "Drink this," the matron ordered, pressing a goblet full of silver liquid in his hand. "Tirelessness Potion. The headmaster said to let the three of you have some for the examinations today."

Hex did as he was told and was immediately felt refreshed. 

"You still mustn't exert yourself," Madam Pomfrey cautioned. "The potion only keeps you from _feeling_ tired. You could be dying of exhaustion and not know it."

"That's a cheerful thought."

"You are to come back to the hospital wing during the lunch break to eat, rest and take more potion," she continued crisply. "Please remember, Holmstrom, _you are still sick_. Now go."

"Wait a minute." Hex pointed to where Maeve still lay, asleep. "What about Maeve?"

"She's sedated right now. It will wear off in plenty of time for the O.W.L.s. I'll send her down when she's ready. Now go," Madam Pomfrey repeated. "Good luck."

Heeding her advice, Hex walked slowly to the Transfiguration corridor, where the first O.W.L. exam was to be held. It was funny how removed the hospital wing seemed from the rest of Hogwarts. When he had entered the hospital wing, the O.W.L.s were days away. Now it was only hours. It was like stepping out of a time machine.

Conversation dwindled away when he showed up. People looked up from their books to gape at him. He supposed they all thought he was comatose, or a vegetable, or something. Hex tossed everyone a flippant little salute on his way to join the Hufflepuffs.

His housemates, too, were looking at him with some awe. "Hex," Ernie breathed, holding out his hand. "Welcome back."

He grinned and slapped his classmate's hand. "Thanks. It's good to be back."

Other hands went up as more people offered their good wishes. Quite a few were boiling with curiosity over what had happened to them — Hex supposed Peter didn't have much to say — but looked afraid to ask. It was like he had come back from the dead.

Peter was sitting on the floor outside Professor McGonagall's classroom, absently stroking Norman, when Hex reached him. The two boys looked at each other. It was the first time since that night in the Forbidden Forest that they had seen each other conscious. "Hex," Peter greeted him, rising to his feet. Norman jumped to his feet as well and mewled in greeting.

"Pete," Hex replied. They shook hands and hugged each other roughly. "Good to see you."

"Likewise."

"My, my, isn't that touching," Malfoy drawled from where the Slytherins were standing. "But I would prefer that you keep your displays of affection private. I just ate, you know."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Peter growled. His burly form wavered, as if he were trying to change into a bear and stop himself from doing so at the same time.

Everyone gasped, but the pale Slytherin looked unfazed. "What if I don't want to?"

"Then maybe you'd like to join Selenius Lestrange six million feet under," Hex replied grimly, drawing his wand. "I can do that, you know. I remember the spell, and I think I can throw you down a bottomless ravine more easily than I did him." 

"You wouldn't dare."

"_I_ would."

It was Maeve. There was a chillingly familiar glitter in her eyes. 

Malfoy sneered. "What is this, Hufflepuff's answer to Potty, the Weasel and the Mudblood?"

She ignored that. "I know the spell, too, Draco, and I doubt if that many people would miss you."

There were a few titters at her words and Hex smiled thinly. "So are you up for it? Just say the word, pal, and then _we'll_ say the word."

Malfoy was spared from responding by Hermione's arrival. "Come off it now," she said in her bossiest voice. "Let's get back to work."

"Why don't you make me, Mudblood?" Malfoy taunted.

"I suppose I could take points off Slytherin," the bushy-haired girl replied, fingering her prefect badge meaningfully, "but since Gryffindor is so far ahead of Slytherin for the House Cup, it wouldn't really matter, would it?"

The Gryffindors laughed uproariously at her retort, and Malfoy finally flushed angrily and turned away. Hermione looked at the three Hufflepuffs. "Let's keep things orderly, shall we?" she asked crisply, then smiled. "Thank goodness you're all right."

"Thanks, Herm," Hex replied. "We're glad we're all right, too."

Hermione made a face at him. "Don't call me Herm," she said, but laughed before she walked away.

He watched her leave, then looked down at Maeve. "Hey."

She looked smaller and paler than usual, and there were tears welling up in her eyes, but she managed a watery smile. "Hello." She laughed self-consciously and scrubbed at her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I suppose I look a mess."

"No, you don't. You're beautiful."

Maeve sniffled and threw her arms around both him and Peter. The two boys traded looks, then grinned. They stayed locked in a group hug until Professor McGonagall threw open her classroom door to signal that exams were about to begin.

Hex watched their classmates file into the room. "This is it," he told his friends. "Let's go in."

****

Concluding Remarks: I wrote the hospital wing scene in practically one go. I was afraid I'd left things out or didn't explain them properly, but whenever I read it over I found I was happy with Dumbledore's answers to our burning questions. To recap: Lestrange has some kind of ability to manipulate anyone, provided that person's name had been uttered in the magical world. Maeve, as his biological daughter, _might have_ some of this ability. The return of Voldemort and his Death Eaters required all Muggle-borns (and those of indeterminate origin, like Hex) entering Hogwarts that year to hide their names. 

I think it was especially cool to have no real reason to allow Hex into Hogwarts as a fifth year. JK Rowling depicts Dumbledore as the wise, God/Yoda/Mr. Miyagi character, but he became truly wise for me when he recognized that he does not know everything. (That's Socrates :D) So, unlike Mary Sue and Gary Stu, Hex has neither prophecy nor birthright. He's just a guy I created to wreak havoc in Hogwarts. And we can only speculate about the role Helga Hufflepuff had in making this story come about.

Pardon the essay. One more chapter to go…


	20. The Feelgood Movie Ending

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Disclaimer: I only own Hex, Maeve, Peter, Peggy and Tiny. Hogwarts and everyone else mentioned in this fic belong to JK Rowling.

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Part Three — Chris "Hex" Holmstrom

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The Feel-Good Movie Ending

With schoolwork over after the O.W.L.s, Madam Pomfrey had imprisoned the three Hufflepuffs in the hospital wing. By the time the end-of-term banquet rolled around, they were all eager to finally have some real food after a steady diet of chicken soup and lukewarm porridge.

That night, the Great Hall was festooned with decorations of scarlet and gold, Gryffindor colors, because that house was to be awarded their fourth straight House Cup. (A/N: Not fifth, because there was no Inter-House competition during the Tri-Wizard Tournament.) Nevertheless, everyone had good appetites and did justice to the feast provided by the school kitchens.

When everyone had eaten his fill, Professor Dumbledore tapped his glass. The entire hall fell silent as he rose to his feet. "This has certainly been an eventful year," he said, beaming. "We have made new friends and learned valuable lessons…and the time is upon us once again to say 'til we meet again' — some of us only for the next few months, and the others perhaps for a bit longer." At that, many of the seventh years wiped away sentimental tears. 

"And now," Dumbledore continued, "the House Cup. In fourth place, we have Ravenclaw with 312 points; in third place, Hufflepuff with 340 points; second is Slytherin, with 400 points; and in first we have Gryffindor with 490 points." He smiled as the Gryffindor table erupted in cheers and applause. "Before we continue with the ceremony, I would like to award a few more points.

"I am proud to announce that all the fifth and seventh year students passed their qualifying examinations, some with flying colors, others with…respectable marks." The teachers chuckled at the collective sigh of relief that greeted this announcement. "So I award fifty points to Hermione Granger for garnering the most O.W.L.s of her year; and likewise, fifty points to Margaret Abbott in recognition of her outstanding N.E.W.T.s."

Hermione and Peggy both flushed with pleasure as the Great Hall rang with applause. Dumbledore smiled and applauded as well. "Congratulations, ladies. A job well done." He then turned back to the rest of the Great Hall. "I would also like," he continued, "to award fifty points to Peter Brandegoris, for bravely putting aside his fear and going to the aid of his friends at great personal risk."

Peter turned red as Susan kissed him noisily on the cheek. The Hufflepuffs looked at each other in wonder. Peter's points had put them ahead of Slytherin! Who would have thought that Hufflepuff House would ever place second in the race for the House Cup?

But the headmaster wasn't done. "Furthermore, to Maeve Moondaughter, for remaining true to herself and to the ideals of Hufflepuff House despite great danger and unspeakable odds, I award fifty points."

Maeve gasped, colored prettily, and smiled as Hannah and Susan threw their arms around her, shrieking ecstatically. The rest of the Hufflepuffs zeroed in on the third member of the trio. Peter got fifty points, and then Maeve did, and that only left…

Dumbledore paused dramatically, then nodded, as if to himself. "Finally, in recognition of his valiant efforts to give his friends courage to believe in themselves and make great things happen, and for having the courage to fight — be it against stereotype, circumstance, or even evil itself, I award sixty points to Mr. _Christopher_ Holmstrom."

There was a dead silence as everyone in the Great Hall wondered who had won the House Cup. They'd never heard that name before. At the Hufflepuff table, everyone had frozen. The person who had won sixty points was not a Gryffindor. Who on earth was Christopher…_Holmstrom_?

Everyone looked wildly at the boy sitting behind the glazed ham. He was just the same — blond hair, blue eyes, a cocky grin and the oddest thing in his eyebrow. "That's me," Chris said in the strange accent a full term at Hogwarts had yet to erase.

Still, no one said anything, until…

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"We've won the House Cup!" Peggy cried, her voice breaking. 

The Hufflepuffs looked at each other, not daring to believe it. Finally, Justin, Ernie and Timothy jumped up, yelling wildly, and the Hufflepuff table went mad, stamping, shouting, slapping each other's backs. A dazed Professor Sprout was presented with the glittering trophy and fainted dead away. Chris tried to kiss Maeve, who dissolved into giggles. The Fat Friar whooped and did a few loop-the-loops amid the Great Hall's decorations that were changing from scarlet and gold to yellow and black. 

Everyone else applauded good-naturedly as Hufflepuff House, after having waited in the wings for centuries, finally took the spotlight.

The next day, it was time to leave Hogwarts for the summer. That morning, students said good-bye and promised to write as they sat on their bulging school trunks to close them. Teachers went round the dormitories, handing out last-minute assignments and reminders not to use magic over the holidays. For her Hufflepuffs, Professor Sprout had a House Cup full of golden, sweet-smelling peaches. "I am so proud of all of you, my dears," she told them. "I still can't believe it!"

"Believe it, Professor Sprout," Justin said. The grin hadn't left his face since Dumbledore's announcement the night before.

"And it's all thanks to Hex—I mean, Chris," Ernie said.

"Of course not," Chris said modestly. "Remember what Dumbledore said about believing in yourself and making great things happen."

He took his peach, knapsack and school trunk down to the practice field, where he was going to take the Portkey to Maggie's. "It's too bad you can't take the train with us," Susan said. She, Maeve and Peter had come along to see Chris off.

"Yeah, well, I have to put in a day's work to make up for the times I missed," Chris said. "And anyway, I can catch the Knight Bus from anywhere."

"Will you have a place to stay in Brooklyn?" Peter asked.

"Yeah. I'll be staying with my boss for the summer." Tiny had sent another owl shortly before the quidditch final against Gryffindor to say that Social Services was going to let the boy stay with him.

"Will you be all right there?" Maeve asked. 

"Yeah. Tiny's cool." Chris grinned. "He'll get a kick out of my Special Services to the School Award. How about you? Will you be OK with the Malfoys?"

"I'm sure I will."

"If they try anything, go straight to Maggie's like I told you." He kissed her cheek, then shook hands with Susan and Peter. "I'll try to write you guys."

"Same here," Peter said. "Take care."

"See you." Chris grinned one last time, grabbed hold of the Portkey, and disappeared.

****

THE END…

Concluding Remarks: I hope you guys didn't mind Hufflepuff beating Gryffindor for the House Cup. Like I said many chapters ago, when I first read _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone_, I sincerely thought Harry was going to bring the "lot of duffers" to glory; but since he got Sorted into Gryffindor, I figured it was up to Hex to do it. And I hope he did his job well. 

Well, here it is, the end of the story **wipes away a sentimental tear** I had a lot of fun writing this fic, and I hope you had as much fun reading it. Thanks to Tarawyn, Ina, liquidhigh, Dragonessa Smith, ColdCoffeeEyes25, Kiara5542, shmals, zoomphy, Chad-Pendragon, Tasia 202, Indigo Ziona, Rosmerta and Mal-adjusted for the oh-so-wonderful reviews. Thanks also to anyone else who silently followed this story to the end — I hope you enjoyed it, even if you didn't leave a review ;-) 

At this point, I suppose I should put in a profound farewell message that will echo in the hearts of my readers for years, but I'm really no good with goodbyes. So…see you around :D ~ Ara Kane


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